


Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

by laughter_now



Series: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder-'verse [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: BAMF!Bones, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Klingons, M/M, Marriage, OC character deaths, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 90,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughter_now/pseuds/laughter_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why ever would Leonard want a boring day with nothing worse but a case of the sniffles to treat, when he could crawl through the maintenance shafts of a space station filled with Klingons instead? It's an odd chain of events that lead him to this point, but when push comes to shove (and Klingons come knocking), someone's gotta take charge and make sure they all survive until help arrives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything associated with the Star Trek franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> First posted to my lj-journal on February 26th, 2010.

**Prologue**  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261.204 (July 22nd, 2261)_**   
  
  
Leonard surveyed the odd assembly of people in the Medical Bay with a sinking feeling in his chest. Fifteen patients, three of them in critical condition and another four headed straight that way if they weren't transported to a facility with better equipment soon. Two nurses, both of them injured as well, though not as severely as the other patients, and a young ensign who had just happened to be in Medical at the wrong time and was scared out of his wits by everything that had happened during the past hours.  
  
Oh, and of course there was Admiral Marlow and his two personal administrative officers. He couldn't forget about them, because his day wouldn't be the absolute shitfest it had turned into if it weren't for the damn Admiral to begin with.  
  
None of his patients was in any condition to sit up, much less walk, and he needed his nurses to look after them. The young ensign – what was his name? Wilkes? Wilkins? Something like that – was putting up a brave front, but Leonard knew that he wouldn't be able to hold that up if he went out there, and the Admiral…well, he was an Admiral. One of the worst kind, of course, because it was just Leonard's luck to be stuck with a pompous asshole who had given orders from behind the safety of his desk for the past twenty years and probably no longer remembered how to hold a phaser the right way around.  
  
Of course there were the two administrative officers, but Leonard had seen firsthand what their idea to get out of this mess looked like, and he'd rather live to see another day, thank you very much.   
  
Which left exactly one person – him.  
  
Just great. Just fucking awesome.  
  
Because stunts like that were just the thing he lived for. Why would he want a boring day with nothing worse but a case of the sniffles to treat when he could crawl through the maintenance shafts of a space station filled with Klingons instead? Right, this was going to be so much more fun.  
  
A choked gasp from one of the biobeds tore him out of his musings, and immediately Leonard went over to check the readouts above the bed. Lieutenant Phrax' was wheezing softly, her skin even more pale and clammy than the last time Leonard had checked up on her just a few minutes ago.  
  
"Doctor?"  
  
Nurse Harper immediately stepped up beside him, her injured arm held tightly against her chest.  
  
"Her O2 saturation is still going down. Her lungs are closing up. She needed those injections hours ago, damn it."  
  
Leonard had no other choice. He picked up the hypospray from the tray beside the bed and adjusted the dosage, then released the medication into the young Denobulan's neck. The hypospray hissed as the serum was released, and after a few seconds Leonard watched as the readouts on the monitor above Phrax' bed began to change. They were still a long shot from normal, though, and it drove the message home that they were running out of time pretty damn fast.  
  
The distant sound of yet another explosion rumbled through the walls, its faint tremors ratting the instruments on the tray beside Phrax' bed slightly. Someone was still alive somewhere in the station, at least.  
  
Turning around, Leonard pressed the hypospray into Harper's hand. The nurse's eyes widened slightly at the sudden urgency of Leonard's movement.  
  
"Doctor McCoy, what…?"  
  
"She's good to go for another two dosages of 30cc, but she'll start showing first symptoms of overdosage soon. So wait for as long as you think you can justify before you give her the next shot. I'd rather save her liver if there's a chance."  
  
Harper took the offered hypospray, but she was still clearly confused. Leonard had no time to explain, though. Phrax would probably last for an hour until the next dosage, and maybe half an hour until the next – and last – they could safely give her. He had an hour and a half at the most.  
  
"Ensign…Wilkes!"  
  
The young man spun around, eyes wide and a flush on his pale cheeks, looking every bit as if he expected a thorough dressing down any moment now.  
  
"Wilcox, Sir."  
  
Close enough then. Leonard was going to try and remember it this time.  
  
"Ensign Wilcox, whatever you did to the doors, how long is that going to hold up?"  
  
The young man shifted from one foot to the other nervously. "Sir, I…I can't say, sir. Sorry, sir."  
  
Leonard barely suppressed a sigh and a monumental eye-roll. "Make an educated guess, Ensign. You locked those damn doors, you should know how long it's going to take to open them again."  
  
"I…I don't…," the young man bit his lips as if to stop himself from saying that he didn't know. Then he drew a deep breath. "Someone who knows their way around these systems might need an hour, maybe a little less. I don't know how much Klingons know about systems like this one. And I can't say what'll happen if they use brute force." He looked at Leonard and, almost as an afterthought, added an emphatic "Sir!"  
  
Leonard nodded as he stepped up to one of the computer consoles that were still working and started typing in a string of commands. One hour, provided that the Klingons hadn't already figured out that they were looking in the wrong place. If they had already started trying to crack the blocks on the doors to Medical, all bets were off.  
  
Just how good at overriding computer systems was the average Klingon?  
  
The console beeped softly as Leonard finished typing in his personal identification codes, and a soft click announced the release of a drawer beneath the console. Leonard was never going to grumble about unnecessary emergency protocols again, ever. He promised.  
  
"All right Wilcox, here's what I want you to do. What do you know about Security Clearance Codes?"  
  
Wilcox seemed startled at the question, but answered almost automatically.  
  
"A nine-digit code assigned to every officer in Starfleet. They're required to activate certain protocols like emergency procedures or self-destruct mechanisms."  
  
Leonard nodded approvingly. "Right. And according to Starfleet emergency protocols, in a crisis situation Security Clearance Codes can be used as a means of identification. You're going to guard this door, Ensign, and if anybody makes contact and asks to be let in, you ask them for their Security Clearance Code. If they refuse to give it, or hesitate for just one moment, you will not open this door, is that understood? Even if they claim to be Starfleet personnel coming to the rescue. Clear?"  
  
Wilcox nodded hesitantly. "Yes, Sir. But…"  
  
"You watch whatever it is you did to those doors," Leonard interrupted. "If you think anyone is getting close to overriding your locks, or if the Klingons try to break down the door, you trigger the biohazard alert and seal off the entire Medical Bay."  
  
If Wilcox' eyes were going to get any bigger, his eyeballs might just drop out of his head. "But won't that cut off the air supply?"  
  
Leonard nodded. It was the purpose of a biohazard alert to seal off the Medical Bay completely to prevent any released pathogens from spreading through the ventilation system. It was a last resort, but they were running out of options pretty fast.  
  
"What would you prefer, Ensign – being locked into Medical with the Klingons on the outside, or being in this very room when they break through the door? The air in here is going to last about seven hours, that's seven hours more than what you'd have if you open the doors and let those Klingons in. So you will seal off this room if you only so much as suspect that someone's close to breaking through, and that's an order."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Good." Leonard reached into the drawer he had unlocked a minute ago. "And take this, in case anything unforeseen happens."  
  
He took the phaser out of its cabinet and handed it to the young ensign, who looked at the weapon as if he had never seen such a thing.  
  
"Doctor?"  
  
"Emergency protocols, Ensign, gotta love them. Unfortunately, Starfleet thinks it's enough to issue one emergency weapon for medical personnel, so it's gotta do. Think you're up to this?"  
  
Not that they had any other choice. If Wilcox wasn't up to this, he'd have to hand the phaser to one of the nurses and repeat his instructions to her, and he'd much rather have them make sure that the patients were going to survive until help arrived. Wilcox might not have any real battle experience, but if things went according to plan at least for once, all he'd have to do was stand there and guard a door that was hopefully going to stay closed until Leonard returned.  
  
The young ensign nodded, albeit hesitantly. "Yes, Sir."  
  
"Good."  
  
Patting the man's shoulder once, Leonard went and grabbed one of the medical containers from the supply closet and put it in a transport bag.  
  
"And just what the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
Great. Of course Admiral Marlow had to chose now of all times to make his opinion known. It had been nearly half an hour since the last time he had tried to take charge, after all. Furiously, Leonard pointed over towards Lieutenant Phrax' bed.  
  
"The Lieutenant needs medication. Medication which should have been delivered here, but which ended up in the cargo hold thanks to you and your little game of _hide the latinum_. We have had no contact with Ops for over forty minutes, the station is crawling with Klingon raiders, and thanks to your ingenious plan they're trying to raid a cargo hold filled not only with the medical supplies we desperately need here, but also with a shipment of a deadly virus that is going to kill everyone aboard this station within hours if they're dumb or clumsy enough to release it! So don't you dare to open your mouth now and try to tell anyone what to do! I think you screwed up enough for one day."  
  
Marlow bristled, building himself up to his full height as he took a step closer to Leonard. His two lackeys in the background were standing to attention, but Leonard could have cared less about those two idiots right now.  
  
"Even if the Klingons get their hands on the virus, you have a whole freezer of the antiviral serum right here. Enough to treat everyone on this station if it's needed."  
  
Leonard really wanted to punch the man. Maybe burying his fist in the Admiral's nose would finally be enough to shut him up.  
  
"It's an _experimental_ antiviral, for crying out loud. It hasn't been tested yet. It might work, or it might kill whoever is injected with it faster than the original virus would. That's what we needed a shipment of the living virus for in the first place, to test the antiviral on, you stupid fuck!"  
  
"You will not take that tone with me, Lieutenant Commander!" Marlow bellowed, but frankly, Leonard didn't give a damn.  
  
"I will take whatever tone with you that I want. This is my Medical Bay, the station is on red alert, and that means right now your word isn't worth shit, _Admiral_. I'm in charge here, and you will do what I say if you want everyone in this room to survive until reinforcements arrive. And until they do, I'm going to go to the cargo hold and get Lieutenant Phrax' medication, and the case with the virus if I can, and you're going to stay here and try not to screw up anything else while I'm gone."  
  
Marlow gaped open-mouthed, spluttering slightly before he regained his composure.  
  
"And of course it has to be _you_ who goes out, the only capable doctor we have left. But from everything I've heard, a tendency for unwarranted heroics is common aboard the Enterprise, a principle her own Captain practices as well as preaches."  
  
Anger flared up inside of Leonard at the Admiral's mentioning of Jim's name, a fierce fury that only reinforced his desire to pummel the man until he finally shut up. He forced himself to not let any of his anger show and kept his voice icily neutral as he looked Marlow straight in the eye for his reply.  
  
"I'm trying to survive this day, Admiral, and I'm trying to make sure the people I'm responsible for do, too. I'm the one who has to go because it takes medical knowledge to find the medication Lieutenant Phrax needs in the containers. Nurse Harper and Nurse Orton are injured and in no condition to crawl through the maintenance shafts, and the container containing the virus can only be opened by someone with a medical clearance like mine, so even if they were uninjured neither of the nurses could go. The container is too big to carry, so I will have to open it myself in order to take the virus back here."  
  
Marlow opened his mouth to reply something, but Leonard cut him off.  
  
"The Lieutenant doesn't have any time to spare. She's dying, which means I'm done talking. I will leave now, and you will do just as I said and stay here. You won't interfere, you will not try to get out of this room, and you will keep your two men in check until I come back."  
  
"That's insubordination, Lieutenant Commander," Marlow snarled, his tone flat and threatening. "You'll be demoted so fast once this whole thing is done, you'll be lucky if you're still scrubbing hospital floors in the future."  
  
Leonard wanted to roll his eyes at the unnecessary dramatics. "Demote me, then. Hell, court-martial me if you like, but don't keep me from doing my damn job for any longer."  
  
Leonard turned around without waiting for the Admiral's reply. With one last look at the station's schematics that had been pulled up on a computer console, he shouldered the transport satchel and stepped over towards the access panel through which he'd get into the maintenance shafts that would hopefully get him to the cargo hold without being seen.  
  
Wilcox helped him slide the panel open, and before he could even think about what a stupid and hare-brained idea this whole thing was, he was on his hands and knees and crawling into the bowels of Starfleet Outpost Braga IV. Behind him, the panel slid shut with an ominous sound. At least the maintenance shafts were lit. Sparsely, but it was better than nothing.  
  
Leonard started to crawl forward, trying to be as silent as possible. The transport satchel was shifting around on his back and he had to look out so that he wouldn't hit his head on the low ceiling. Ten minutes to the cargo hold if everything went right. Fifteen if he continued to sacrifice speed for stealth. And he already knew that it was going to feel much longer than that.  
  
As he placed his left hand forward the next time, a reflection of light from his hand caught his eye. Looking down on the silver band on his ring finger, he stopped moving for a second and breathed a barely audible sigh.  
  
"Any time now, Jim." Leonard mumbled under his breath as he started crawling again, counting down the distance until the next turn he had to take. "I know you love to have a dramatic entrance, but any time now would be good."  
  
How many hours since they sent the distress signal? Enterprise was how many light years away? He couldn't remember. Hopefully close enough to reach them in time. If they had even received the emergency transmission.  
  
"Damn it, Jim, you better be on your way."  
  
The only answer he got was the sound of yet another loud blast rocking the space station somewhere in the distance.  
  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261.149 (May 28th, 2261) – Two Months Earlier_**   
  
  
"They can't order you to go."  
  
Leonard rolled his eyes. He had known Jim wasn't going to take this without a fight. Or a whine. Or maybe both.  
  
"They're not _ordering_ me to go, Jim, they're _requesting_ me."  
  
"Which is Starfleet's way of ordering a married officer to a posting away from their spouse, and you know it."  
  
Leonard raised an eyebrow.  
  
"But what if I want to go no matter if my _spouse_ thinks Starfleet is well within their rights to make this request or not?"  
  
Jim rolled over on the bed, glaring at Leonard. God, he really didn't want for this to turn into a fight. With a sigh, he put down the PADD he had been holding and went over towards the bed, sitting down on the edge so that he was facing Jim.  
  
"Listen, you know just as well as I do that I wouldn't consider going if it wasn't important. That outpost is going to turn into one of the busiest trading stations and the system is going to profit from that, but those trade routes are not going to happen if they can't get those outbreaks under control. That virus is killing thousands of people in that system each year, and I've done research on a similar strain during my residency. I'm the most qualified doctor for this job. Besides, this asteroid field we're currently mapping isn't getting any smaller, and the only people who really get a kick out of this are the guys down in stellar cartography. I think you can all manage without me for three months while most of the crew is busy doing absolutely nothing."  
  
"But what if _I_ don't want to bore myself to death for the next three months while you're light years away?"  
  
Leonard sighed, tiredly rubbing at his eyes. He could feel a headache starting to form at his temples, and if he was really going to leave Enterprise in two days, there were much more interesting things he could think of to spend their remaining time together.  
  
"Listen Jim, do you seriously not want me to go on that assignment? Because if you don't, we'll have to talk about this."  
  
Jim sat up with a sigh, eyes averted.  
  
"I don't want you to go. But I know that you want to go, and I'm not stupid enough to try and tell you what to do. I guess me and my right hand are going to make a renewed acquaintance over the next three months."  
  
Leonard snorted. "I should have known that you'd worry about the sex."  
  
With a predatory smile, Jim started to crawl across the bed towards Leonard.  
  
"Don't tell me you're not going to miss the sex, Bones."  
  
Leonard just raised his eyebrow again, crossing his arms over his chest. And of course Jim took that as an invitation to pounce, pressing him back into the mattress with his full body weight. And yeah, of course he was going to miss the sex – not that he'd admit that outright without making Jim work for it a little – but he was probably going to miss this a lot more, having Jim close like this, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief just inches away from Leonard's own.  
  
Jim suddenly cocked his head to the side, a pensive look settling on his face.  
  
"We've never been apart for more than two weeks. I never realized, but it's true. Ever since we started at the Academy, it's never been longer than two weeks."  
  
Leonard rolled his eyes at the dramatic tone, but he felt a small stab thinking about it, too. It was true, he and Jim had never been separated this long before. Not while at the Academy, and neither since boarding the Enterprise three years ago. Definitely not since they had gotten married.  
  
"You know what they say, Jim. _Absence makes the heart grow fonder_ and all that." He had to smile at the pout that started to appear on Jim's face, and he pulled him down for a lingering kiss.  
  
"Just imagine all the catching up we can do once I'm back. You can take yourself off duty for a week and we won't leave this bed."  
  
Jim chuckled and snuck his hands under the hem of Leonard's shirt.  
  
"If you leave me alone for three months, you better use the remaining forty-eight hours you're here to give me something to tide me over until you come back."  
  
Leonard smiled. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of something. Forty-eight hours is a long time, after all."  
  
In the end, it wasn't nearly enough to make the fact that Leonard was leaving any easier on either of them. But Leonard kept telling himself that it was only for three months, after all. How much could go wrong in three months? Oh, he was going to miss Jim, that much he was sure of. But in the end, the three months would be over far more quickly than he expected them to, and he'd be home again.  
  
He'd be home again in no time.


	2. (1.)

**_Stardate 2261.153 (June 1st, 2261) – Starfleet Outpost Braga IV_**   
  
"And this is Ops," Captain Bartlett said as he led Leonard through the door into the space station's command center. Leonard knew that he couldn't compare an outpost's operations center to the bridge of a starship, but he couldn't help himself. Ops was smaller than the bridge of Enterprise, for one. The same consoles were there, of course – communications arrays, tactical stations, science stations, a command chair – but it seemed to be crammed into a much smaller space. It wasn't as bright and shiny as Enterprise's bridge, either. Not that anything about the consoles seemed derelict, but it was clear at first sight that Ops had been equipped for functionality, and not representation.  
  
The outpost on Braga IV had been established more than twenty years ago as a defense and scouting outpost, but now that the Bragans had entered trading unions with the Federation and other non-associated species were things going to change. The outpost would slowly but surely be developed into one of the biggest trading stations in the entire sector. Provided, of course, that Leonard somehow found a way to stop the viral outbreaks that had been plaguing the system for centuries now.  
  
Of course it was typical that Starfleet only now became interested in treating the virus, when trading agreements were at stake. Apparently the risk to let the virus spread through the galaxy by all the traders was one they weren't willing to take, but everyone had been content enough to just leave things be while it had only been the Bragans that had been affected by it, no matter that it had happened right in front of them this whole time.  
  
But that wasn't Captain Bartlett's fault. It was yet another of those things that were decided by Admirals who were sitting comfortably in their padded chairs, hundreds and hundreds of light-years away. If they managed to find an antiviral serum, if it proved to be possible, then Leonard was going to put a few choice paragraphs about the previous treatment and importance of the issue into his report, and see if they liked that.  
  
Bartlett introduced him to the command crew and Leonard forced himself to pay attention. He already knew the names from the briefing files, but the sooner he connected names and faces the better. He wasn't going to be working closely with the command crew, but he wasn't here merely for the research. Everyone aboard the station could end up being his patient at one point, after all.  
  
"I'm sure you'll get to know everyone soon," Bartlett finished his introductions. "Right now the station has a crew of 219. Small station, small crew, it's inevitable that everyone knows everything about everyone else. All right, let's get down to Medical and get you introduced to the staff there."  
  
Leonard followed Bartlett out of Ops and into the corridor. So far, he had only seen the docking bay where the USS Merrimac, the cruiser headed for the Braga outpost with supplies that had picked Leonard up, had dropped him off. Well, that and the quarters he had been assigned, but Leonard didn't want to contemplate that he was going to live in that empty room with the single bed for the upcoming three months. It had only been twenty hours since he had said goodbye to Jim – the unofficial goodbye, the one that had taken place behind the closed doors of their quarters and not the official and very professional goodbye they had said in Shuttle Bay – and already he missed him.  
It was going to be a very long three months.  
  
Their steps echoed through the corridor as he and Bartlett marched towards Shuttlebay.  
  
"Admiral Pike told me I was crazy when I put in my request for your assistance here on the station."  
  
Leonard made a non-committal grunt in the back of his throat. He didn't yet know the Captain at all, and he had no idea where he was going with this.  
  
"According to him, it's been an unwritten rule ever since Enterprise first departed that it'd be futile to try and reassign you somewhere else without Captain Kirk. Even long before you two got married."  
  
Leonard shrugged. He and Jim had never made any secrets about their relationship, neither aboard the Enterprise nor in front of the Admiralty. But that didn't mean he had to feel comfortable discussing the fact that his place was with Jim – and the other way around – with a complete stranger.  
  
"I have to admit that it was a little surprised to receive your positive answer, especially since it was on such a short notice."  
  
Again, Leonard shrugged.  
  
"It's a necessary assignment, Captain."  
  
Bartlett inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Right, but a necessary assignment that came with barely an advance warning."  
  
Leonard snorted. "Yeah, and we both know how that happened. Everyone was so busy negotiating trade agreements, probably drooling all over their PADDs at the thought of how profitable all this was going to turn out, that they completely forgot about the lethal virus the traders were going to spread all over the galaxy until it was nearly too late. And now they need someone to fix their crap for them, and quickly, so that none of those profitable agreements fall through."  
  
Bartlett watched Leonard from the corner of his eye, face unmoving for a second before he broke out in a wide grin. "Oh, I think you're going to fit right in here, Doctor McCoy. If those trading routes do not get established, nothing here in the sector is going to change. The Braga IV system is by no means underdeveloped, but this close to the edge of the Neutral Zone they can only really profit and prosper with regular outside help and interest. The trading agreements were the first signs of that in decades."  
  
Leonard felt his eyebrow rise high on his forehead. "No pressure, then."  
  
Bartlett laughed. "Yeah, no pressure at all."  
  
"So how's the situation right now? Starfleet and Federation personnel stay on the station and the Bragans stay in their system?"  
  
Bartlett shrugged. "Pretty much, though there's plenty of interaction. The station is positioned just outside of the Bragan system, and it was established as a mining outpost at first. There was a mining facility on a moon nearby, but ever since those resources have been depleted it's border control for the most part – making sure the Klingons and Romulans don't try to get into the Neutral Zone through here. Which doesn't happen often, fortunately, because while the station is equipped for battle, we're pretty far off from any kind of reinforcements out here. Of course all that is going to change once the system gets pushed up on the list of profitable sectors, but for now we're actually glad that this isn't the most active conflict zone with the Klingons. There's regular exchange with the Bragans, of course, and a mutual agreement to lend aid if necessary. But for now, it's mostly supply exchanges and shared science and research. The Bragans haven't yet managed to develop a cure for this virus, but they have well-equipped laboratories on Braga IV and have agreed to support you with all the supplies and the personnel you need."  
  
They stopped in front of a pair of plain sliding doors.  
  
"And here we are," Bartlett said and with a flourish pressed the door panel to open the entry to Medical. They entered, and Leonard's first thought was that it was smaller than his own Sickbay. The equipment wasn't brand new and top notch like everything he was used to from Enterprise, but at least at first glance everything looked clean, well-ordered and in working order.  
  
Two nurses were working in the background, discussing the display of a computer console in hushed tones. None of the biobeds were currently occupied, and two closed doors led off from the main room into what Leonard suspected were the labs. There was no office that he could discern, but there was a desk with a computer console in the far-off corner that Bartlett steered them towards. A woman in a medical uniform was sitting behind the desk, looking up from the PADD she was working on as they approached. Seeing Bartlett, she got up from her chair.  
  
"Captain."  
  
"As you were, Lieutenant. Lieutenant Megan Parker, this is Lieutenant Commander Leonard McCoy, on temporary reassignment from the USS Enterprise."  
  
Parker stretched out her hand and Leonard shook it. A firm grip, but there was the undertone of a glare in her gaze as the Lieutenant met his gaze while shaking hands.  
  
"I'll leave the two of you to get acquainted then. Your duty starts at 08:00 tomorrow morning Doctor McCoy; use the time until then to get acquainted with everything. I'm sure Lieutenant Parker will lend you a helping hand with that. I'll be in Ops, if there's any further questions. I'll leave you to it, then, doctors."  
  
"Captain," Leonard said as Bartlett turned around and left him with Parker, whose expression already promised that this was going to be a fun experience if they got this off on the wrong foot. Bartlett's introduction had already given a pretty big hint of what could become an issue, and Leonard was a firm believer in getting unimportant administrative stuff out of the way as quickly as possible.  
  
"Is this rank thing going to be an issue?"  
  
Parker looked up at him, head cocked slightly to the side. She was about his age, Leonard guessed, maybe a year or two older. Straight brown hair with a few grey strands mixed in, tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail, brown eyes and a face that practically telegraphed a no-nonsense attitude to go along with the hairdo. At first glance, she seemed like an older version of Christine Chapel, without the snark Christine allowed herself towards him after years of working together.  
  
"Of course not, Lieutenant Commander. Ranks make the hierarchy pretty clear, after all."  
  
Great. Parker probably had been pissed off ever since Bartlett had told her that he was going to be transferred to the outpost, and he couldn't say that he blamed her. He wouldn't particularly like having a higher-ranking temporary replacement put in front of him, either.  
  
"It's _Doctor_ McCoy. Leonard works just as well. Under stress I also react to _hey, you_ , and if you dare to call me Lenny I'm going to shove you out an airlock and make it look like an accident." The corners of Parker's mouth twitched slightly, and Leonard took that as an encouragement to continue.  
  
"Here's how I see it – I'm here because someone a lot higher up the food chain screwed up and didn't consider this virus to be a problem until it was shoved right in their face. I've worked with a similar strain of virus before, which is the reason why Starfleet reassigned me here, and trust me it wasn't exactly by my choice either. This is your Medical Bay, and I'm not here to take over. You know the people on the station, you know the equipment, and I'll be perfectly content to just let you do your job if you let me do mine. The only situation when I'm in charge is when I'm treating a patient, when I see someone else is about to screw up, or when there's an emergency that requires for me to pull rank. The rest of the time, I'll be happy to lock myself up in the lab and work on this problem, because the faster we can get this done the faster I can be on the way to my ship."  
  
Parker crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Yeah, your ship. Because of course the Braga IV outpost can't compete with Starfleet's flagship. But trust me, I'll do my very best to make sure you'll be back on Enterprise in no time. I can read everything I need to know in the medical journals later on."  
  
Leonard nearly laughed.  
  
"Is that what the attitude is about? Trust me Doctor, if we find a way to stop this virus, I'll be more than happy to leave all the publishing rights to you. We can even name the cure after you if that's what you want. But before we decide on how to split royalties, how about we get started on finding that damn cure first?"  
  
Parker looked at Leonard for a long moment, then she shook her head with a sigh.  
  
"All right, maybe we should start over again."  
  
She stretched out her hand.  
  
"Megan Parker. I'm the Chief Medical Officer of the Braga IV Outpost, and I'm pissed at the idea that now of all times Starfleet tries to pull out the high profile solutions to a problem I've been trying to make them notice for nearly three years now. But only now that there's trade agreements in danger do they suddenly take it seriously, and all of a sudden there's nothing more important than getting the posterboy of Starfleet Medical over here to the edge of space in order to solve it."  
  
Leonard smiled with an appreciative nod and took the offered hand. Maybe he had been wrong about the lack of snark.  
  
"Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise, and if I'm the posterboy of Starfleet Medical they seriously need to reconsider their advertisement strategy. Thanks to yet another problem Starfleet didn't take serious enough until it was biting them in the ass I've had to leave an accident-prone crew and a Captain with no sense of self-preservation behind, and can only hope that they don't find a way to kill themselves somehow in the next three months."  
  
Parker threw a look in his direction that was half-smile, half-scoff as she let go off his hand.  
  
"You don't trust your staff to get things done in your absence?"  
  
"Oh, I trust my staff completely. I don't trust the rest of the crew to not make their life as difficult as possible while I'm away, though. Trust me that I'm not here entirely voluntarily, and I'm most certainly not trying to take over your position, or hog all potentially resulting glory, so how about we stop this pissing contest and get to work?"  
  
For a long moment they kept standing there, still trying to size the other up, but Leonard just wanted this crap to be over and done with. As soon as that was out of the way, they could get to work.  
  
"Fair enough," Parker finally said. "Labs are this way." She gestured towards the two closed doors at the far-off wall and Leonard fell into step beside her.  
  
"I'm sure Starfleet already gave you their official file on the Braga virus. I'll make sure you have access to all our internal files as well."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Parker unlocked the door to the lab and led Leonard through into the room beyond.  
  
"This is the main lab. Me and Doctor Valdez, the second doctor here on the station, are the only ones with clearance to work here other than you. Sterile lab with biofilters to work on living pathogens is through the other door. The equipment is all up to date, but we don't have any live samples of the virus aboard the station, so we haven't yet used the lab for any of that work."  
  
Leonard frowned. "Why not?"  
  
"We've never had an outbreak of the virus on the station. Truth be told, we never even had a single patient who was infected so there never was any chance to extract the virus. There's a medical facility on Braga IV that has the capacities to do so, but Starfleet doesn't want any samples of the living virus on the station as long as there's no potentially working antiviral at hand. We need to work with dead samples of the virus until we get to that point."  
  
Leonard snorted. "Good to know that Starfleet cares so much about security."  
  
Parker smiled. "Trust me, I've tried to argue with the idiots in charge, but to no avail. I kept losing in the risk-assessment."  
  
"We'll need the living virus to test any potential antivirals on. I'm not going to inject anybody with a serum if I'm not absolutely sure it's going to work."  
  
"Your word in Starfleet's ear, Doctor McCoy. Anyway, we're nowhere near that state yet, which is probably the main reason Starfleet brought you here. Your record says you worked with a similar virus before?"  
  
"Yeah, on a project during my residency. We did a full genetic mapping of the Replovian virus."  
  
Parker whistled through her teeth. "Impressive. You developed an antiviral, too?"  
  
"No. Our funds were cut as soon as we had analyzed the damn thing. It didn't have a high enough priority."  
  
"Guess the Repa system didn't have any interesting trade rounds or resources."  
  
Leonard had to agree, as much as he disliked it. He knew that it was too far-fetched to think that Starfleet could solve all problems in the entire universe, but sometimes the way priorities were set left a lot of room for doubt.  
  
"All right, all this looks well enough. How about you give me a few hours to work through the files in your database, and then we sit down and make a plan on how to proceed from here."  
  
Parker nodded. "Sounds good. Though you do remember that you're not on official duty until tomorrow morning?"  
  
Leonard shrugged. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll make some headway. We're on a tight schedule as it is."  
  
A small grin tugged at the corner of Parker's mouth. "And every hour is yet another hour your captain without a sense of self-preservation is left on his own devices."  
  
Leonard chuckled. "He has a first officer to keep him in check. I wouldn't mind seeing my husband again sooner than expected, though."  
  
"All right. Then go read those files, and we'll talk about them over dinner. 18:00 in the mess hall?"  
  
Leonard nodded. "Sounds good to me."  
  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261.153 – 21:00 hours_**   
  
"So, what's it like?"  
  
Leonard looked at Jim's eager face on the screen in front of him. There was a deep ache inside of him that had started the moment his communication had been put through to their quarters and that had only intensified when those blue eyes lit up at the sight of him. He forced himself to shrug at Jim's question.  
  
"Pretty much just another tin can floating in space, just that this one's not moving."  
  
Jim rolled his eyes at him, and Leonard felt the sudden urge to kiss that pouty expression right off his face. Only, he wouldn't get to kiss or even hold Jim for three months to come.   
  
Just why the hell had he thought this was a good idea?  
  
"It's okay. Smaller crew, older equipment, but everything is in good working order and the crew seems to know what they're doing."  
  
"They'd better," Jim all but growled, making Leonard laugh.  
  
"There's regular red alerts on Enterprise, firefights and battles are not that uncommon either, and you're worried about my safety here? Yeah right, try again Jim. On that matter, you better not do anything stupid while I'm gone. Mapping space means I don't want any big incident reports to deal with when I get home."  
  
Jim mock-saluted him. "Aye, Sir. So, how's the doctor you have to work with? Is he any good?"  
  
Leonard smiled. "She seems good enough. Got an additional degree in Microbiology and Xenogenetics, so she knows what she's doing."  
  
" _She_?"  
  
Leonard couldn't help himself, he laughed.  
  
"Yes, _she_. Women have been allowed to get medical degrees for a few centuries now. And Megan has three of them."  
  
" _Megan_."  
  
It was adorable, even if Leonard didn't want to torture Jim unnecessarily. But seriously, a jealous Jim Kirk? Who would have thought he'd ever get to see that in his lifetime.  
  
"Yes, Megan. Doctor Megan Parker, the station's CMO." She and Leonard had dropped the last names at some point during dinner, mutually deciding that it would be a lot easier to just go by their first names.  
  
"You've been on that station for less than a day, and you're on a first name basis already?"  
  
Leonard shook his head. Only Jim.  
  
"I know of a certain someone who had a foreign dignitary propose a _physical union_ between them within ten minutes of getting to know each other. The same certain someone generally thinks negotiations are about to go sour when he's not on a first name basis with the other involved parties within the first day of negotiating. Need I continue?"  
  
Jim fidgeted in his seat, and again Leonard had to stop the urge to reach out and touch him. Behind Jim, he could see part of their quarters, and considering the small and sparsely furnished and decorated quarters he was currently sitting in, it only increased the feeling of longing in the pit of his stomach. At this rate, it was going to be a long three months ahead of them.  
  
"So what's she like?"  
  
Leonard shrugged, not sure whether Jim was asking in order to have something else to feed his unwarranted jealousy, or because he genuinely wanted to know.  
  
"A good doctor, from what I can tell without having seen her in action. Feisty, too. Also she's pretty pissed off at Starfleet for ignoring the problem for so long, and for reassigning me to her station now that they can no longer ignore that the virus is a serious problem."  
  
Jim's brow furrowed. "She has issues with you?"  
  
"Not so much with me personally than with how Starfleet handled the situation. And I can understand it. I wouldn't much like it if Starfleet assigned someone who technically outranks me to Enterprise either. Nothing says _'you can't get the job done on your own'_ better than that."  
  
"Could she? Get the job done, I mean."  
  
"I don't know." Leonard rubbed a hand over his face with a tired sigh. "If she had been given enough time, probably. With that kind of pressure, the two of us will be lucky to get viable results in the timeframe Starfleet grants us."  
  
Something crossed Jim's face at that.  
  
"We agreed to three months, Bones. Not more."  
  
"I know, Jim."  
  
If it was already this hard after two days of not seeing each other, more than three months sounded like a life-sentence. But Leonard couldn't lie to Jim, and his husband knew that – he needed to do his job. And if they wouldn't be able to create a working antiviral in the timeframe Starfleet had allotted them, Leonard knew he wouldn't be able to just turn his back and leave. And that had nothing to do with saving trade routes, and everything with being a doctor.  
  
"I'll know a lot more once we get started on the actual work. Megan already did a lot of the preliminary research in her spare time, so we've got a lot of the groundwork covered already."  
  
"She's smart, huh?"  
  
Leonard rolled his eyes.  
  
"Yeah, she's smart. Good-looking, too. But you know what she isn't?"  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"She isn't you, Jim."  
  
It still astonished him, even after all those years of knowing Jim, after being married for over six months, how easy it was to disarm him with a single honest compliment. Now, too, a slight blush rose to his cheeks and he averted his eyes for a moment. On any other day, Leonard wouldn't have let him do that. He'd normally take that handsome face in his hands and force Jim to look at him, and he'd repeat what he had said over and over again – preferably in between kisses – until he was sure that Jim had heard him. Right now that wasn't an option, and he got the sinking feeling that he'd have to get used to a lot of changed dynamics over the course of the next weeks and months.  
  
"So, how's mapping the endless expanse of nothing coming along?"  
  
Now it was Jim's turn to roll his eyes. "Boring as hell. Not that I envy the guys in Stellar Cartography for their shining moment, but it's boring. Asteroids here, asteroids there, _hey look – there's one that looks like Admiral Archer's face_ , it's horrible. I'll be glad once it's over and everything's back to normal."  
  
Blue eyes bore into him through the video uplink, and Leonard felt something inside of him clench painfully.  
  
"Yeah, I miss you, too, Jim."  
  
Three months. In his head, Leonard began counting down the days.


	3. (2.)

**_Stardate 2261.158 (June 6th, 2261) – 11:25 hours_**   
  
"Nurse Chapel hates me."  
  
Leonard nearly spit coffee all over the vid-screen. He had been worried at first when the communications officer on duty had hailed him with a video call from Enterprise. He and Jim talked every evening, and pretty much every morning before the start of their shifts, so a call in the middle of the day had immediately invoked images of the countless ways Jim could manage to get himself hurt – or worse – aboard the Enterprise, peaceful and boring explorative mission or not. Seeing Geoffrey M'Benga's face when he had answered the call at Megan's desk had only intensified that sudden lurch of fear in Leonard's gut.  
  
And now it seemed that Geoffrey M'Benga, the man who voluntarily specialized in treating Vulcans, had called him to whine about their head nurse.  
  
"I'm fairly sure Christine doesn't hate you."  
  
And really, just saying these words made Leonard sound like a kindergarten teacher. All his staff consisted of well-experienced men and women who could stand their own ground, and yet Geoffrey called him for this, and only yesterday his inbox had contained a very long and detailed letter from Christine in which told him not to expect finding things in their right order upon his return because she was only one woman and couldn't really be expected to pick up everybody else's slack.  
  
The funny – if one was inclined to apply the term here, which Leonard wasn't sure he was – thing about it was that Leonard _knew_ that despite all that, the medical team aboard the Enterprise was working together just fine. They all just…loathed change, apparently. And for some reason he was becoming the outlet for that, because he was the one who had caused the change by his departure, and apparently people thought he didn't have anything else to do.  
  
"Oh no? I didn't think so either until you left and I started working regular shifts with her. I mean, I've been working with her before and everything was just fine. But now? All I hear is _Doctor McCoy files the current cases separately, that makes accessing the information easier_. Or a variation of _Doctor McCoy always puts the medication reports in the appendix of the file, not in the treatment column_. Or, my personal favorite, _Doctor McCoy is never as backlogged on his paperwork as you are_. I mean, is she for real?"  
  
Leonard laughed. He remembered Christine Chapel and her paperwork vendetta only too well, and it wasn't as if he had never been on the receiving end of one of her tirades about it before.  
  
"The filing system is her baby, Geoffrey. She's proud of the adjustments she made, and if you want to be able to work with her in peace you'll have to do the same thing I always do – just nod and do as she says. And whatever you do man, don't ever tell her you're behind on paperwork. I just sneak mine out of Medical and do it whenever I have a spare minute, but the main thing is you gotta be sly about it. As long as she thinks you're getting it all done by the regs, working with Christine is a real treat."  
  
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. "Sure is, Leonard – for you. I'm just Saint Leonard's replacement. And boy, does she let me feel it."  
  
Leonard laughed. "Whatever you do, don't ever ask her to get you a coffee. It's a mistake I only made once, and I thought she was going to tear my head off."  
  
"I might be stupid on occasion, but I'm not suicidal, trust me. So, how's things on your end?"  
  
"We're doing a genomic mapping of a virus, in a limited timeframe, with two people and only a dead sample of the virus to work with. How do you think it's going?"  
  
Geoffrey's face pulled into a sympathetic grimace.  
  
"And Starfleet really thinks three months is enough time?"  
  
Leonard shrugged. "The people who decided on that don't have any clue what we're dealing with here. But Doctor Parker has done a lot of the preliminary work on her own already, so we're not starting from scratch."  
  
"I think I read one of her papers once, on chronic genetic diseases in Andorians. Seems like at least you lucked out having a partner in this project who knows what she's doing."  
  
"Yeah, and who wasn't really allowed to do anything until now. Sometimes I really hate all this administrative crap."  
  
Geoffrey nodded emphatically. "I hear you, Leonard."  
  
"The good thing, though, is that working in the Medical Bay of this station is a treat."  
  
Eyebrows rose high on Geoffrey's forehead. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Leonard shook his head with a smile, barely able to believe it himself. "Well, I've been on duty here for five days. Five. And maybe that's not enough time to get a really good overview, but all I've been dealing with during those five days is a couple of crewmen who _voluntarily_ showed up for scheduled exams or inoculation boosters, and two minor working accidents. One was a cut finger, the other a torn ligament from missing a step."  
  
Geoffrey's expression was one of disbelief.  
  
"Two injuries. In five days. You've gotta be kidding me."  
  
"I'm speaking the truth. Two injuries, not a single one more. Not even a headache. Apparently the people here don't just set up experiments that blow up in their faces, they know how to stay away from plasma outlets, and they all know how to do their jobs without getting banged up in the process."  
  
Geoffrey was still shaking his head. "And they show up for their exams _voluntarily_?"  
  
Leonard nodded. "Apparently, yes. I gotta find out how Megan does that."  
  
"No matter what you try, don't get your hopes up. The Captain is never going to show up for a medical exam voluntarily. Trust me."  
  
"A man can dream, right?"  
  
Geoffrey nodded, still smiling.  
  
"Speaking of crewmembers prone to blowing things up, Mr. Scott's latest batch of moonshine is actually drinkable. Apparently, it's the CMO's prerogative to test the first glass with him, which is something I never knew about."  
  
Leonard laughed. "Well, you weren't CMO until now."  
  
"That's true. Well, I'm going to indulge in that privilege until your return, which by the way everyone aboard hopes will be sooner rather than later."  
  
"Yeah, because I'm such a ray of sunshine in everyone's day."  
  
Geoffrey chuckled. "Well, at least you know how to handle the Captain when he's bored. And considering that mapping this asteroid field is going to take quite a while still, boredom is on his agenda for a long while to come."  
  
"What's he doing, Geoff? I'll tell him to stop."  
  
Geoffrey looked at him through the connection for a long moment, and his expression sobered.  
  
"He's not doing anything specific, at least nothing that would be worth mentioning, or interfering with. But he…he seems pretty lost right now. A lot of departments don't really have anything to do with the process of actually mapping this asteroid field, and he's doing his best to keep everyone busy and entertained at the same time. We have a movie night now, did you know? And what he does seems to work for the crew as a whole. I just get the feeling that he's feeling the worst of it, though he's trying to keep up the cheerful façade. Just…make sure that you get your ass back home before he starts talking to the walls or something."  
  
Leonard had to smile despite himself. "Yeah, I will. I should get back to work now."  
  
"Okay, you do that. And if you don't hear anything from me for the next week, Chapel probably killed me."  
  
"Yeah, right. Goodbye, Geoffrey."  
  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261.166 (June 14th, 2261)_**   
  
Megan's degree in Xenogenetics really paid off. If she hadn't been so experienced in what they were doing, analyzing the basic structure of the virus would have taken a lot longer than it did. It was the kind of work that didn't allow for mistakes, because this was what they'd base their attempts at creating an antiviral on later, but already after the first few days of working with her Leonard had been convinced that he'd be able to trust her results.  
  
It was one of Leonard's biggest problems, he knew that, but he didn't easily trust other people's findings. If there was enough time, he'd always prefer to double-check things himself. It wasn't that he was arrogant enough to think he knew better than anybody else. But Leonard had always subscribed to the work ethic that if he gave a patient a certain treatment, he had to stand behind it one hundred percent. And in order to make that guarantee, a simple thought that never even left his lips or was communicated to the patient in any other way, he needed to _know_ every step along the way.  
  
He needed to be sure, always did, and he had a hard time trusting the results someone else had come up with and base his work on that. But on a schedule as tight as theirs was, there was no other choice but to split up the work. There was no time for double-checking every step along the way. Leonard had to trust the results Megan came up with, and so it was good to know that he had a good feeling about her work.  
  
And – though Geoffrey had probably thought he was joking – it really helped that the crew on the Braga IV outpost wasn't in constant need of medical attention. Most days, it worked just fine if Leonard and Megan split up the regular appointments and then left the nurses to deal with whatever patients came in over the course of the day. Most of the time, it didn't take a doctor to administer a hypospray against a little headache or a sudden bout of nausea.   
  
And for whatever reason it happened – whether Enterprise's crew was simply more careless, whether life on a starship was essentially more dangerous, or whether it was the simple fact that Enterprise housed more than three times the number of crewmen as the station did – it gave Leonard and Megan more time to work on the virus, and a possible way to create an antiviral.  
  
Of course, more busy shifts would have been a guarantee that Leonard got to know the crew a lot faster, but in his experience there were more pleasant ways to make a first encounter than the one where one party was lying on their back covered in blood. So really, it was no big deal. And it wasn't as if Medical was chronically empty. There were a few regulars, after all.  
  
Like Lieutenant Phrax, the young Denobulan. She was a tactical officer, and Leonard had actually first seen her enter the Medical bay on his second day at the station, and twice a week ever since. But it had always been Megan who had treated her, and thanks to the immense workload that putting together the genetic profile of a virus presented, Leonard hadn't yet managed to read through the files of all his potential patients. So it was only when Megan was busy one morning and Leonard had to treat her that he got to know she suffered from a hereditary genetic condition.  
  
"I have to admit I've never seen a Denobulan suffer from chronic hemoglobin deficiency before," Leonard said as he loaded the cartridge with the modified hemoglobin supplementary into a hypospray and applied it to the young woman's neck. "I always thought your protein structure made that kind of disease rare."  
  
Lieutenant Phrax gave him a slightly sad smile.  
  
"Guess I got lucky in the gene pool lottery, Doctor."  
  
Leonard raised an eyebrow and put the empty hypospray away as he leaned against the bed next to the one Phrax was perched on. Protocol dictated a five minute wait under medical supervision after the injection of any medication, and in a no-crisis situation he actually had time for that once. He couldn't help but be intrigued.  
  
Phrax' hemoglobin deficiency effectively meant that her own blood wasn't able to produce enough red blood cells, which in return made her blood unable to bind a sufficient amount of oxygen. He knew that there was research done on the disease on Earth, and Denobulans were scientists above everything else and would probably research the deficiency as well if it was one that could affect their own species. Nevertheless, while treatable it was nowhere near curable.  
  
"Yet still you ended up in Starfleet," Leonard said, careful to keep his voice neutral. He was intrigued, nothing else, and he didn't want the young Lieutenant to get the wrong impression because he asked the question. But Phrax didn't seem to be fazed in the least.  
  
"It was the career choice that offered the most possibilities."  
  
Leonard didn't really want to go into the question whether it was a dream come true to be stuck on a Starbase near the end of the known universe. That wasn't his debate to lead, and everyone was responsible for their own choices. But still, he'd be lying if he said that it didn't puzzle him.  
  
"Knowing Starfleet, there's plenty of restrictions involved."  
  
Phrax shrugged.  
  
"Not more than if I was serving on Denobula. I'm cleared for active duty provided that continuous medical supervision can be guaranteed. Which means that I'll never serve aboard a starship, because according to Starfleet the medical care and supplies that I need are not continuously guaranteed aboard a ship, but nothing speaks against me serving on a Starbase. As long as I get my medication on time, I can serve on active duty just like everyone else. And if there is a shortage in medication for some reason, there are other means to tide me over."  
  
Leonard harrumphed in the back of his throat. There were other medications, that much was true. Not nearly as effective as the hemoglobin supplementary Phrax had been given for all her life. It was medication that would make sure her oxygen supply was provided. But unless there had been a leap in research that Leonard wasn't aware of, that stuff was designed to bypass hours, or maybe a day without the appropriate medication, not longer. And the side effects were bad, to say the least.  
  
It wasn't that Leonard disagreed with the fact that Starfleet allowed Phrax to serve. He simply wasn't sure it was a career path he'd have chosen had he been suffering from her condition. Starbases were generally considered a lot safer than spaceships – one reason why he had considered being posted on one when he had first signed up – but supply routes could be cut off nevertheless. It only needed the outbreak of yet another damn interstellar crisis and all of a sudden things no longer looked as rosy.  
  
"Well, I'll make sure to check that we're stocked up on your hemoglobin supplementary, just to be on the safe side." He checked his chrono. "And that's it, Lieutenant. You're good to go."  
  
"Thanks, Doctor," Phrax said as she slid down from the biobed and turned to leave. Leonard made note of the medication in her file – in the treatment column and not the appendix, because he didn't have Christine breathing down his neck here – and saved the data. A quick check of the computer logs showed that their supplies on Phrax' medication were running low, but that Megan had already put in the request for a supplemental delivery three weeks ago. It was scheduled to arrive with the next medical transport within a month, and a quick mental calculation revealed that they should easily get by with what they had left until then.  
  
And since Leonard's entire patient load of the morning had consisted of Lieutenant Phrax, he cleared away the hypospray for disinfection and turned back towards the lab. Megan should be nearly finished entering their research data from the previous days into the computer by now. Once that was done, they could tackle this virus for real and start thinking about how to design the antidote for it.  
  
The sooner they got that done, the better.  
  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261.168 (June 16th, 2261) – 20:30 hours_**   
  
"Why the hell are you half-naked and sweating?"  
  
Leonard did a double-take at the accusatory snarl that greeted him from the video console in his quarters. A drop of sweat was running down his forehead and he tried to wipe at it with the back of his hand before it could run into his eyes. It would have been adorable had Leonard not been too exhausted to appreciate the sweeter side of Jim's unfounded jealousy.  
  
"Because I just came back from a run and was halfway into the shower when you called. Half an hour early, I might add."  
  
And if Jim had deliberately called him early to check up on him, he had another thing coming.  
  
Strong brows creased together in thought as Jim pondered that statement.  
  
"Since when do you go for runs?" There was a definite note of suspicion in his voice. "You hardly ever go for runs on Enterprise."  
  
Leonard rolled his eyes and sank down in his desk chair with a groan. Great, now he'd have to wipe it off later.  
  
"No, but that might be because on Enterprise I'm constantly running the distance from Medical to the Transporter Room in order to save whoever came back bruised, beaten and bloody this time. I don't need to run in the evenings because the crew keeps me on my toes the entire damn time. Here? Here I'm stuck bent over a lab table for most of the day. Drives me insane if I don't get some movement, so I started running."  
  
Jim didn't seem fully convinced, but knowing his husband really founded jealousy probably had nothing at all to do with it. On the screen, Jim craned his neck, as if he was trying to see the room behind Leonard.  
  
"Really Jim? You're checking to see that I'm alone?"  
  
Jim rolled his eyes and leaned back in a chair with a pout that was completely unbecoming a man of his age, but that for some reason made him look even more adorable than he already was.  
  
"I looked at Doctor Peters' file, Bones. You know, _Megan_."  
  
"God, not this again."  
  
Jim shrugged. "I just wanted to see what I'm up against."  
  
Really, Leonard no longer knew if he should laugh or scream. "You're not up against anything or anyone, Jim. We work together. I like her. I'm not sexually attracted to her in any way. End of story."  
  
"I know." And strangely, Leonard believed him immediately. So the jealousy was something Jim riled them both up with during their conversations rather than something that was a serious problem. Well, Leonard could deal with that. It was adorable, in a way, not that he'd ever tell Jim that.  
  
"It's just unfair," Jim continued. "It's unfair that you're flushed, sweaty and panting and it's not because of me. I want to be there, Bones. I want to be the reason why your skin is all flushed and your breathing is getting flat and more rapid."  
  
Leonard swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. Jim couldn't be serious.  
  
"Jim…" It came out as a strangled moan.  
  
"I want to run my hands all over your skin, Bones. I want to feel the heat, and trace those drops of sweat as they run down your chest."  
  
Jim couldn't possibly be serious. There was no way he was going to do this over an open video channel that anybody with some hacking skills could listen in on.  
  
"Jim, we really shouldn't start something we can't finish properly…"  
  
"Most of all though," Jim continued as if he hadn't even heard his husband, "I want to kiss you. I haven't kissed you in weeks, and I miss the feeling of your lips against mine. I miss those little noises you make when you need to breathe but don't want to let go."  
  
And God, if that sultry voice didn't have Leonard's stomach in a knot and his pants getting uncomfortably tight. Only Jim could do that to him, but it was even more frustrating to get this aroused by hearing Jim's voice whisper all these things to him in the knowledge that he couldn't touch and hold him, couldn't even kiss him because Jim was light years away.  
  
"I want to bury my head against your neck and just breathe you. You always smell so good, Bones."  
  
Almost unconsciously, Jim turned his head towards his shoulder and inhaled, and that broke the spell for a moment. Leonard stared.  
  
"Is that my shirt?"  
  
Jim looked up, not a single trace of embarrassment on his face. And Leonard was sure even before he got a verbal answer that this was indeed one of his t-shirts, one he had been wearing the day before his departure from Enterprise. And if he wasn't much mistaken, he had put that shirt with the laundry before he left.  
  
"It is."  
  
"You took my shirt out of the dirty laundry, Jim? Do you have any idea how unhygienic that is?"  
  
Jim only shrugged. "It no longer smells like you. Not really. You need to send me a new one."  
  
"I'm not going to send you a shirt I've worn, Jim. I swear…"  
  
"Don't tell me you didn't find the shirt I packed for you, Bones."  
  
Of course Leonard had found it. It had been lying right atop his clothes in his suitcase, after all. But Jim didn't have to know that Leonard kept it under the pillow in his bed, or that despite all his grumblings about how he was no sentimental fool, burying his face in the fabric and just smelling Jim helped whenever the ache in his chest got too hard to bear. And Jim really didn't have to know that the shirt Leonard had still smelled like his husband because he was clever enough to keep it in a sealed plastic bag during the day, and because he didn't wear it no matter how big the temptation was to simply wrap himself in Jim's scent completely.  
  
Maybe Jim didn't need to know because Leonard was convinced that he already did.  
  
"Yeah, I found it."  
  
Jim's grin was blinding, though it couldn't quite erase the note of sadness in his eyes.  
  
"It's no substitute for the real thing, though."  
  
Leonard shook his head. "No, it isn't."  
  
Two and a half months. A little less, even. It wasn't that bad. Somehow, he'd be able to hold on until then. But not if they got all maudlin right now.  
  
"So what's the early call all about?"  
  
Jim shrugged. "Spock and me scheduled a few drills for the middle of gamma shift. I figured it wouldn't look too bad if at least the Captain seemed awake for it, so I'll go to bed in a moment."  
  
Leonard smiled. "Trying to keep the crew on their toes?"  
  
"Trying to keep boredom from taking over. Besides, Spock is worried about crew efficiency now that the only department that really has something to do is Stellar Cartography. Apparently, efficiency has been going down by 0.4 percent of the past three days. Spock was practically in tears when he told me."  
  
"Vulcans don't have tear ducts," Leonard said almost automatically, and Jim – mature starship Captain that he was – stuck out his tongue at him.  
  
"I wasn't being literal."  
  
"You don't say."  
  
"I love you, you know?"  
  
Leonard smiled, and once more wished almost desperately that he could take his husband in his arms and kiss him.  
  
"Yeah, I know. The feeling's mutual."  
  
"And this time I was being literal."  
  
"Me too, Jim. Me, too."  
  
Leonard's hand jerked, and just for a moment he was tempted to press his hand against the screen in an undoubtedly soppy, not to mention futile, attempt to feel Jim.  
  
"Go get some sleep, Jim. We'll talk tomorrow."  
  
"Good night, Bones."  
  
Jim terminated the connection, and Leonard sat there staring at the dark screen for a few long moments before he got up and went over into the head to take the shower he had been angling for twenty minutes ago. Real water showers were the only perks about being stationed on a Starbase, but not even that small luxury could make up for the aching hole inside of Leonard.  
  
He was turning into a romantic sap, and that was one diagnosis for which there was no known cure. But as he stood under the hot spray of water, one hand wrapped around himself and trying to conjure up images of Jim and the seductive tone of his voice in his head, Leonard realized that he had never thought he'd ever miss someone as much as he missed Jim, either.


	4. (3.)

**_Stardate 2261.181 (June 29th, 2261) – 08:35 hours_**   
  
Leonard had to smile when his connection was put through and Nyota's face appeared on the video screen. He and the communications officer had been talking quite a few times since Leonard had left Enterprise, mostly some minutes here and there before she patched his calls through to Jim, but today she wasn't smiling at him like she usually was.  
  
A knot began to form in Leonard's stomach, and he felt the smile falter from his face.  
  
"Good morning, Nyota," he offered hesitantly.  
  
She looked back at him as if she was this close to figuring out a way how to grab him by the lapels of his shirt and shake him even if they were light years of space apart.  
  
"You've got to come back, Leonard."  
  
Leonard was taken aback, and that ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach grew.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Nyota's expression sobered a little, as if she understood that Leonard was immediately thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened to the ship, the crew, and especially to Jim since he last called Enterprise.  
  
"Nothing's wrong, Leonard. Everyone is just fine. But…" She looked around as if to make sure that there was nobody in her immediate vicinity, then she leaned closer to the screen and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You've got to come back as soon as you can, Leonard. He's driving us insane."  
  
Leonard was fairly sure that his eyebrows were melting into his hairline.  
  
"Jim? Why? What's going on?"  
  
She was still leaning in close to the camera, and Leonard unconsciously shifted a little closer, too, though he couldn't have said why.  
  
"I've known him since he started at the Academy."  
  
Leonard nodded, still completely confused. "I know. What is this about, Nyota?"  
  
"I'll tell you what this is about. I've known him for nearly six years now. And if this…" she made a vague gesture at some point behind her shoulder that Leonard couldn't see through the screen, "if _this_ is what Jim Kirk is like when he's not getting any, then I'm going to have to shoot myself soon. Or maybe him, I haven't decided yet."  
  
Leonard was glad that he had put his cup of coffee down beside him, because he was fairly sure he'd have been spraying the screen with the liquid otherwise.  
  
"What?"  
  
"He's…unbalanced, Leonard. Restless. He doesn't stop moving just for a second, and it's driving me insane. It's driving everyone insane. I am this close to asking Christine for a dose of tranquillizers, just so that we all get a little peace and quiet here on the Bridge."  
  
"Nyota, you are not going to dose my husband with tranquillizers just because he seems a little antsy!"  
  
" _A little antsy_? Leonard, he's the impersonation of an entire anthill right now. And I get that he's bored, because we all are. Hell, I'm organizing all the linguistic databases and next I'll be recalibrating the universal translator's language filters, that's how bored I am. But I'm not driving everyone insane with it."  
  
Leonard had to smile despite himself. "What does he do?"  
  
Nyota rolled her eyes. "Right now? Right now he's slouching Captain's chair, and that's actually one of his more restful activities. Though I'm going to punch him soon if he doesn't stop bouncing his damn leg. But the rest of the time? He's all over the place! He's been organizing movie nights and inter-departmental exchanges for the entire past week, Leonard. He's all over the ship, you never know where he might turn up next! Scotty was completely devastated because they had a discussion about the warp core, and Scotty had to look up some of the things he mentioned because they were over his head. And trust me, I never want to have lunch in the mess hall while listening to him ranting about the differences between the 20th century portrayal of Godzilla and that of the 22nd. With Chekov of all people, just because the poor guy dared to ask which version of the movie had been picked for movie night! He had an entire semi-scientific defense of his point prepared, just as if he had written a paper on that topic."  
  
Leonard laughed, though he couldn't help but be a little worried. Not so much at Jim's antics, because he knew very well that his husband could control those when it mattered. But he was a little worried about the fact that Jim was retreating into his head. Jim had always been a social person, and he had plenty of people to spend time with aboard the ship, so Leonard guessed it was some sort of a self-chosen exile Jim put himself into now that Leonard was gone. And it made him restless, and – even worse – it sent his head into overdrive. Scientific lectures about horror movies were a small thing compared to what Leonard knew Jim could come up with.  
  
"He needs something to keep him busy, Nyota. Something besides overseeing the mapping of an asteroid field, because apparently that doesn't seem to cut it."  
  
"So what do you suggest we do? I can't just make up an interstellar crisis or provoke an attack on the ship just because our Captain goes bonkers when he gets bored and lonely!"  
  
Leonard rolled his eyes. "And nobody said anything about doing something this dramatic. How about…I don't know! Get Spock to play some more chess with him, maybe that's enough already."  
  
"It isn't," Nyota all but hissed. "They're already playing two evenings a week. Last week they played _three_ times. I'd say that's plenty, if not more than enough already."  
  
Leonard couldn't help it, he laughed. It seemed Jim wasn't the only one with an unfounded case of jealousy plaguing him.  
  
"Nyota, I don't think either of us has to worry about anything."  
  
The young woman's glare cut sharply through the connection. "Of course not! I just want to have a little time with Spock for myself. I can really sympathize with what Jim's going through, but there has to be a line somewhere. Think about it, Leonard. You're only six hours away at maximum warp. Five and a half if Scotty really pushes the engines, I asked him."  
  
Leonard shook his head with a smile. "I'll talk to him." Not that he knew what he was going to say, but if Jim was really driving the crew insane like that, he had to try at the very least. "Think you can spare him a few minutes and patch me through to the Ready Room?"  
  
"Take as long as you want, Leonard."  
  
He saw Nyota swivel in her chair, turning towards where Jim was sitting outside of Leonard's field of vision.  
  
"Captain, it's Doctor McCoy calling for you."  
  
"Put him on the screen, Lieutenant!"  
  
Before Leonard even had the chance to protest, Nyota gave him a rueful smile, and suddenly he found himself looking at a view of the Bridge with the entire crew in sight and Jim dead at the center. Jim was sitting slouched in his chair, but immediately straightened up with a wide smile on his face.  
  
"Bones!"  
  
All eyes were on him, and Leonard found himself throwing slightly apologetic looks to the rest of the assembled crew before he focused on Jim.  
  
"Hello, Jim. I was hoping you could spare a minute."  
  
If possible, the grin on Jim's face grew even wider. "Of course. I just wanted to give you the chance to say _'hi'_ to the rest of the crew."  
  
That statement was followed by a pregnant pause, and under the assembled stares of the crew Leonard found himself raising his hand slightly in a weak imitation of a wave.  
  
"Hello."  
  
And wasn't this completely and utterly awkward. Everyone was staring at him as if he could turn Jim back into the Captain they were all used to just by saying the magic word. As if there had ever been such a thing as a magic word when dealing with Jim. Chekov especially was throwing pleading looks at the screen, but Leonard guessed he'd do pretty much the same if he had to endure an endless rant about the merits of one horror movie over another. Spock was regarding him more impassively, and Leonard was fairly sure that Uhura only allowed herself that devious grin because she knew that Jim's attention was focused elsewhere.  
  
Speaking of which…  
  
"Jim, do you have a minute?"  
  
"Absolutely! I just thought I'd give the crew some time to catch up with you."  
  
Leonard raised his eyebrow. "I'm sure they all have work to do."  
  
Jim rolled his eyes like a petulant little boy, something Leonard knew he only did because everyone had their backs turned on him or was sitting behind him and thus couldn't see. Contrary to popular belief, Jim took his job as a Captain seriously. When he wasn't bored out of his mind, at least.  
  
"All right. Lieutenant, patch the call through to my Ready Room, would you? Spock, you have the conn. Everyone, say goodbye to Bones."  
  
Leonard barely managed to get an eye-roll in before Nyota followed Jim's command and his view of the bridge changed to the sight of Jim's empty chair standing behind the desk in his ready room. There was the distant sound of a door opening somewhere in the background, and Leonard mentally prepared himself for the sight of Jim bouncing into sight like an overeager puppy. As much as he loved the other man, they needed to have a talk about the ways Jim had found to deal with his loneliness. He understood that Jim was bored out of his wits by now, but if he took it too far and accidentally did something stupid, like making Chekov cry, the crew was probably going to kill him.  
  
And then Leonard would have to kill the crew in return, and he really didn't want to contemplate the amount of paperwork that was going to be the consequence of _that_ , so he'd rather put a lid on it all while he still had the chance.  
  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261.190 (July 8th, 2261)_**   
  
"Well, I'd say that didn't quite work out," Leonard said, struggling not to cough.  
  
"You think?" Megan asked back just as laconically as they watched the protein regenerator spit out a Petri-dish filled with something…green. Something green and smoking.  
  
Leonard had hit the control panel for the airing system as soon as it had become obvious that something wasn't quite right here, and he watched the thin tendrils of smoke rise up behind the protective partition in fascination.  
  
"We'll have to run that through the computer as soon as it's stopped smoking, but my bet is on the wrong protein base."  
  
Megan shook her head. "Wrong binder for sure."  
  
"Trust me Megan, a wrong binder would cause the stuff to start to smolder, sure, but I'm fairly sure it wasn't green when we put it into the sequencer. There's something wrong with the protein base, the discoloration is a dead giveaway."  
  
Megan threw a glare at him that wasn't entirely serious. "What, you're saying I'm wrong?"  
  
Leonard shrugged. "I'm saying I bet you it was the wrong protein base, not the wrong binder, that's all."  
  
"Oh, you're so on, Leonard. If it's the protein base, I'll be scrubbing the Petri-dishes for the rest of the week. If it's the binder, you'll be my official coffee slave for the same time."  
  
Considering the amounts of coffee Megan dosed herself with during the day, that punishment was really up to par with scrubbing caked Petri-dishes for a week. He stretched out his hand.  
  
"Deal. And while we wait for the stuff to cool down so that we can find out why it nearly blew up in our faces, let's think of alternatives. Because whatever it was that went wrong, I'm pretty sure we're going to need a different approach here."  
  
Megan nodded. "Sure. I'll just grab a coffee. It'll be the last one I have to get for myself for a week, so I'm going to enjoy it."  
  
Leonard rolled his eyes. It was just his luck that everyone he ever ended up working with turned out to be such a competitive know-it-all. At least it made working here feel more like home, if only a little bit.  
  
While Megan was gone, he used the controls in front of him to transport the Petri-dish into the nearby analyzing unit. The virus they were using was dead, so using the robotic arm behind the protective barrier was merely a precaution, and a way of getting used to the equipment for when they'd be working with the live virus at some point. He had just settled the dish in the analyzer when Megan returned with a steaming cup of coffee.  
  
"It should take about twenty minutes until we know for sure what went wrong."  
  
She slid into the seat beside Leonard and took a sip of her coffee.  
  
"I'm telling you, it was the binder, but you'll know for yourself in twenty minutes."  
  
Leonard chuckled. They had time to kill, so he leaned his elbow on the table beside him, tiredly rubbing at his eyes. Maybe he could just close his eyes and take a little nap. During his residency he had learned to survive on catnaps, after all, and it was a talent one never unlearned.  
  
"Tired?" Megan asked from beside him, but Leonard didn't even bother to open his eyes.  
  
"Didn't get much sleep last night."  
  
Megan's chuckle sounded honest and lighthearted. "Don't tell me you had to stage another intervention."  
  
He barely managed to open his eyes enough to glare at the other doctor.  
  
"I didn't have to stage an intervention at any point. Jim's just…"  
  
"Bored?"  
  
"Lonely," Leonard corrected. "We've never been apart for this long before."  
  
And yes, he knew it sounded pathetic and needy, thank you very much. Right now he didn't particularly care. He knew all the crewmembers of the Braga IV Outpost well enough by now, some better than others, but Megan was the only one he had any kind of close personal contact with. He didn't really have anyone to talk to beside her, and for all the mocking and teasing she regularly forced him to endure, he was fairly sure that she was going to listen.  
  
"Newlyweds," she replied with a small smile. Leonard shook his head.  
  
"No, it's not that. I've known him for six years, and we've never been apart for this long."  
  
Megan regarded him for a long moment.  
  
"I could give you all those platitudes about how it's normal to miss him, but you know all that, anyway. And you don't suffer stuff like that lightly. So I'm not quite sure what you want me to say."  
  
He shook his head with a sigh. If he knew what he needed to hear to feel even remotely better about being apart from Jim, he'd already be a huge step farther.  
  
"I know that it's normal. I guess I'm just worried that I'm going to get used to being away from him."  
  
Megan laughed at that. "Right. Leonard, I've seen the dopey way you grin at the view screen whenever you talk to him from down here. Trust me, judged by those looks, that's not going to happen anytime soon."  
  
Leonard had no idea why, but it felt oddly reassuring to hear those words. It had been a scary discovery to realize that falling asleep without the comfortable warmth and weight of Jim beside him no longer took hours, and that he got used to that feeling of a deep ache inside his chest that had been weighing on him ever since he had left Jim behind. Rationally he knew that the fact that he was finding ways to deal with this separation didn't mean he missed Jim any less, but still it was a thought that didn't stop nagging at him. Not in a way that would have provided comfort, at least.  
  
"I tell you, when all this is over you've got to introduce me to him. He's got to be quite the character if he has a guy like you tied up in knots like that."  
  
Leonard laughed with a shake of his head. "Not gonna happen, Megan. He's already jealous enough, no way I'm going to add fuel to that particular fire."  
  
Megan seemed surprised at that statement.   
  
"He's jealous. Of me."  
  
"Well, he did look up your file. I'm paraphrasing, but it was to check out the competition."  
  
And whatever reaction Leonard had expected, it hadn't been for Megan to throw back her head and laugh, loud and long.  
  
"God, he's adorable." She looked at him for a moment, her face creasing into a frown. "Besides, you're married, which is a pretty big stop-sign for me right there. So unless the two of you have one of those open relationships…."  
  
Now it was Leonard's turn to gape. "What? No! Hell, no! I'm not someone who shares."  
  
"I didn't think you were. See? Then he's got nothing to worry about. Besides, and no offence, but you're not my type Leonard."  
  
Not that he had expected to be, but this was the first time Megan had seemed willing to reveal this kind of personal information about herself, and he was admittedly curious.  
  
"No? Then who is? You started this, now you need to deliver. What does the future Mr. Megan Peters have to be like?"  
  
Leonard leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands behind his head as he watched a slight flush rise to Megan's cheeks. For a second he wondered if he had maybe overstepped a line with that question, but after a few seconds she shook her head with a shrug.  
  
"I don't know. The only one who ever came close was…different."  
  
"Different how?"  
  
"He was Andorian."  
  
"Oh." That explained it, then. Interspecies relationships were never easy, no matter that the one example Leonard had in front of his eyes day in day out didn't let it on. More often than not, they didn't work out. Megan shrugged as if it was no big deal, but there was a stiffness to her posture that belied the nonchalance.  
  
"He was in the Imperial Guard, and I was doing some research for a series of papers on genetic deficiencies in Andorians and their treatment. The funds covered the research for a year and we had a great time. But when I got reassigned to another project…" Again, she shrugged. "I didn't want to give up what I was doing, and he didn't want to give up his life, either. So we decided that we didn't work out. That was five years ago. I did another two projects after my work on Andoria, then I got offered the position here three years ago. Guess it just wasn't meant to be."  
  
Another shrug led them into an uncomfortable moment of silence, and Leonard was grateful when the shrill beep from the analyzer unit saved him the need to say anything else. He leaned forward and tapped a few keys to bring the results of the analysis up on the screen. He tried, he really did, but he couldn't help the slightly triumphant grin from spreading on his face as he read through the results. Megan wasn't the only competitive know-it-all in the room, after all.  
  
"Seems like you'll be getting your coffee all by yourself in the upcoming week. And I'd wear gloves, those cleaning solutions are a real hazard on your skin."  
  
Megan's eyes grew wide and she leaned forward to check the results herself.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me."  
  
Leonard just grinned. Score one for him.  
  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261.192 (July 10th, 2261) – 21:05 hours_**   
  
"What's wrong with him?"  
  
Geoffrey tried to raise his hands in a placating gesture, but Leonard wasn't having any of it.  
  
"Damn it, Geoffrey! I try to reach Jim and my call gets patched through straight to you, so I damn well know that he's hurt! What's wrong?"  
  
"He's going to be fine, Leonard. He's sleeping right now, and I'll release him tomorrow morning."  
  
The reassurance dissolved the heavy ball of fear in Leonard's gut slightly, but not completely. It had never happened before, he realized. Ever since they had met, he had never _not_ been there when Jim got hurt. He had never _not_ been able to check on his condition with his own eyes. But now it had happened, and he realized he was absolutely unequipped to deal with it.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Geoffrey sighed. "I'm afraid we have another allergy to add to the list."  
  
"Damn." Leonard tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear, his own immune system is out to get him. What is it this time?"  
  
"We met up with a Tellarite freighter. And up here in this wide expanse of absolutely nothing, it was a pleasant enough surprise. There was a big meet up, a celebratory dinner, the Tellarites brought over some wine to celebrate the encounter, and apparently the Captain shouldn't drink any of that again. Ever."  
  
"How bad was it?"  
  
Geoffrey shrugged. "Not that bad. Mild anaphylactic shock, but his airways didn't close up this time. Just some swelling."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"His face, mostly. His eyes are pretty much swollen shut and his face is puffy, but it got better with the injection of epinephrine. I'll keep him overnight for observation, but so far all his readings check out just fine."  
  
More of the worried knot dissolved, though it wasn't going to go away completely, Leonard realized. Not until he had seen Jim with his own eyes and made sure that he was all right.  
  
"Can I see him?"  
  
"He's sleeping, Leonard. Or rather, I've sedated him because that was the only way I could keep Captain _I'm fine, nothing's wrong_ here in Medical over night."  
  
Leonard ran his hand over his face, suddenly feeling very tired. "Comm me if anything changes, Geoffrey. And send me an updated version of his file, okay?"  
  
Geoffrey nodded. "Of course."  
  
"And…"  
  
"I'll tell him that you called," Geoffrey said with a small smile. "And if he's good about taking his meds, he can call you tomorrow morning."  
  
That finally did the trick and coaxed a small smile out of Leonard.  
  
"Good luck with that. Thanks, Geoffrey."  
  
"You're welcome. I'll keep an eye on him, I promise. You try to get some rest now, okay?"  
  
"Sure. Goodbye, Geoffrey."  
  
M'Benga terminated the connection, but despite the reassurances that Jim was going to be just fine, it left Leonard with an empty, aching feeling in his chest. He should have been there. He trusted Geoffrey to keep Jim safe when he couldn't, but fact was he should have been there himself. It was his job, his responsibility, his…none of the words were right. Not really. But the feeling that he should be there when Jim needed him was, even if he didn't have the right words to describe it.  
  
He couldn't let that happen again.


	5. (4.)

**_Stardate 2261.194 (July 12th, 2261) – 09:30 hours_**   
  
  
"I need the biohazard specs and emergency protocols from the Medical and the Science Department."  
  
Spock raised one thin eyebrow in what Leonard had come to know as an expression of surprised skepticism. Or, as he liked to call it, the Vulcan equivalent of _'huh_?'.   
  
"As far as I am aware, all emergency protocols on Starfleet's Braga IV outpost are up to the current standards."  
  
Because Spock just couldn't say 'sure, okay', not without questioning every single damn thing everybody else did. Leonard felt a small spike of annoyance surge up, along with the strange feeling that he had missed having the Vulcan question the logic of his decisions left and right. Only a little. And he was never going to tell Spock that. Ever.  
  
"I know that. But we've made adjustments to the standard protocols over the past years aboard Enterprise. We're getting ready to start working with the live virus, and when I'm working with a substance that has the potential to kill everyone on this station I want to know that I can rely on the security protocols in case something goes wrong."  
  
Spock inclined his head in a gesture of acknowledgement.  
  
"I will send you a file with the specifications and protocols, Doctor."  
  
Well, that had been easier than expected. Leonard nodded at the Vulcan.  
  
"Thank you, Spock."  
  
"I trust your work is progressing well if you're getting ready to work with a living sample of the virus. You have achieved an antiviral then?"  
  
With everybody else, Leonard would have thought it a question asked out of politeness, not interest. But Spock wasn't someone to waste time on niceties, and of everyone aboard the Enterprise, he was probably the one who could really understand the details of what Leonard was working on right now.  
  
"We have developed a basic antiviral serum, yes. But just because it's theoretically working on a dead version of the virus doesn't mean we're having a breakthrough yet. It might be that our first test on the live virus shows us that we're on the wrong track completely. Which is one of the reason why I want reliable security protocols in place once we start working with it."  
  
"I've been assured that Starfleet has the utmost faith in your abilities to create a working antiviral. And Doctor Parker seems like a qualified partner in this endeavor."  
  
Leonard bit back a smile. He wondered if everybody aboard Enterprise had checked Megan out. It almost sounded like it.  
  
"Starfleet needs to have _utmost faith_ after they ignored the problem for so long. But we'll know more in a few days."  
  
"Are you confident you'll be able to develop a working antiviral in the timeframe you were given?"  
  
Years ago, at the beginning of their mission, Leonard might have taken that question for a jab at his abilities, and a sign of Vulcan arrogance. He knew better now, even if the moments when he and Spock truly saw eye to eye were still few and far in between. But Leonard knew Spock well enough to not misunderstand the intent behind the Vulcan's question. He had learned that with Spock, it was always best to assume clinical interest first, and any other possible reason after that. So his answer was preceded by a shrug.  
  
"I don't know, Spock. Developing an antiviral in that timeframe is no problem at all. The question whether or not it'll be working is another one entirely. To tell you the truth, if this thing goes smoothly within the little time that's left, it's going to be due to luck for a big part. Normally, I'd reserve at least three months for testing the antiviral alone. More than that, probably."  
  
Spock's expression remained impassive. Jim would have probably been able to determine what the Vulcan was thinking despite his unchanging expression, but Leonard had no idea.  
  
"There is the possibility that Starfleet will extend your assignment if those three months prove to be insufficient to complete it. For as long as a working antiviral will be attainable in a foreseeable timeframe, it will not affect the negotiation results, or the establishment of the trading outpost."  
  
Leonard laughed harshly.  
  
"Right. Well, whoever thought along those ingenious lines has a thing coming because I signed up for three months and not a damn day longer."  
  
Spock raised one eyebrow.  
  
"Doctor, I can assure you that while your competence is irreplaceable, efficiency in the Medical department has not suffered since your departure. In fact, given the results of the latest drills and evaluations, efficiency has gone up 0.09 percent."  
  
"Which could have to do with the fact that you're mapping the most boring part of space in existence, so boring that not even this crew is going to find ways to hurt and maim themselves. Or am I wrong in guessing that accident statistics took a sudden drop since my departure, too?"  
  
Spock gave an acknowledging nod of his head, which Leonard knew was all the answer he was going to get to this particular question. And while he had learned to enjoy the occasional chat with Geoffrey, Christine or Nyota about what was going on aboard ever since he had left, it wasn't as if Spock was one for gossip, or a pleasant chat. Probably the Vulcan was already counting the seconds he was wasting with this conversation in his head.  
  
"Right, I should be getting back to work. Keep an eye out on things for me, will you?"  
  
Spock probably would have frowned, if Vulcans did that kind of thing.  
  
"I can assure you doctor that overseeing the events on board is part of my regular duties that I have no intention to neglect."  
  
Leonard smiled and didn't even bother with a retort or an explanation.  
  
"Goodbye, Spock."  
  
"Goodbye, Doctor McCoy."  
  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261.198 (July 16th, 2261)_**  
  
Captain Bartlett's ready room was about the size of Jim's, even though theoretically there would have been more space for it here than crammed in just off the bridge of a starship. It was just as functional as Jim's was, too, with barely any personal touches to it. Over the past month and a half, Leonard hadn't had much dealings with Captain Bartlett outside his regular progress reports and the occasional meeting over a meal here and there, and this room didn't give him any more clue as to what kind of person the Captain was. Leonard had come to know him as efficient, and not a man to waste words, but other than that he had no idea.  
  
Leonard was seated in front of the man's desk with Megan sitting beside him, and this time it was fairly obvious what the Captain's reaction to their request was – he had known it was coming for quite some time now, but he didn't like it one bit.  
  
"And you are absolutely sure you are ready to test your research on a sample of the living virus?"  
  
Leonard nodded. "We need to. There's only so far we can get with testing the antiviral on a dead sample of the virus. But there are effects we can only analyze with the help of the living virus."  
  
Bartlett ran a hand over his face with a tired sigh. "I told Starfleet that I didn't want a potentially lethal pathogen anywhere near my station, but they have been adamant that while we can accept offers of support from the Bragans, the actual research and work has to be done in a Starfleet laboratory. But if I'm already forced to bring this virus aboard my station, I want to know that it's absolutely necessary."  
  
Leonard drew breath to reply, but Megan cut him off. And he for once didn't begrudge anybody for interrupting him. All Bartlett knew of him were his credentials, but he had been working with Megan for the past three years, after all. There was definitely more trust there.  
  
"It is, Captain. We've gone without it for as long as we could, but now we have developed a basic antiviral, we need to test it on the real thing."  
  
Bartlett sighed. "Starfleet assures me that it's safe for the rest of the crew. But Starfleet assures me of a lot of things that I'm not so convinced are true. I've read the file, I know what the virus can do. So tell me, Doctors, is it safe, or is Starfleet just trying to placate me?"  
  
Leonard was taking his clues from Megan, and when she made no move to answer the question herself, he figured she was leaving this question to him.  
  
"There's no absolute safety, Captain. But it would take a hell of a lot of coincidences for the virus to be set free and infect everyone aboard the station. A virus of that class is transported in stasis capsules, which in turn are locked in a sealed and airtight container that can only be opened by someone with the medical clearance to handle the materials. The samples will remain in stasis until they are needed, and we'll only be working with small parts of those samples at a time."  
  
"Which won't make a difference if the virus is set free, will it?"  
  
Leonard shook his head. "It's a highly infectious pathogen, that's true. But the only place it'll ever be worked with is the lab. It has its own contained ventilation and decontamination system, and it's shut off completely as soon as the biosensors detect any unknown substances in the air. With your permission I've updated emergency protocols according to Enterprise's specifications, which means they're way above Starfleet standard now, and the drills we ran show that everything is in perfect working order. And in the unlikely event that the virus does escape the experiment setup, or even the lab, every room in Medical is equipped with emergency biohazard panels. As soon as those are activated, the entire Medical Bay is shut down and blocked off from the rest of the station. There's virtually no chance that the virus can escape, not under normal conditions."  
  
Bartlett frowned, seemingly not convinced by that assurance.  
  
"Under which circumstances could it escape then?"  
  
"Sabotage, for one. Extreme sloppiness to the degree of criminal neglect of protocol. A core malfunction of the emergency protocols. Each of which is not impossible, but extremely unlikely."  
  
Bartlett rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't like it, but it's not like I've been given much of a choice about this from the start. I'm going to inform the Bragan authorities. We're due a delivery of medical supplies, I'm sure they can make a pit stop at Braga IV to take the sample aboard and transport it here."  
  
"When is that transport due?" Megan asked.  
  
"In six days. And until then I want the two of you to go over your results and make absolutely sure that you didn't miss anything. I'll let you know about the details once the transport has been arranged, and I'll call a staff debriefing about safety protocols before the virus comes aboard this station. I expect a detailed report and risk assessment from you before that, and I want daily reports once you start working with the virus. Understood?"  
  
Both Leonard and Megan nodded, and Bartlett relaxed marginally.  
  
"Good. I trust in your expertise, but the entire crew of this station is my responsibility, and I'm not willing to put them at risk because Starfleet is rushing you along. If you have doubts about anything, I want you to come to me. And if it's necessary, I'm going to pull the plug on this whole thing, no matter what Starfleet is going to say about it."  
  
"Understood, sir."  
  
"Right. Then get back to work, I'll let you know as soon as I know more."  
  
Leonard and Megan got up and left the ready room. Once the door shut behind them, he turned towards Megan with one eyebrow raised.  
  
"Now he's cheerful today."  
  
Megan laughed. "Tell me about it. Though I can relate. For years he's been hearing all about how dangerous this virus is, and how lucky he can be not to have anyone who's infected aboard the station, and now he's ordered to bring the virus here. It's only normal that he's worried."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
It was another lesson in how different life aboard a space station was compared to that on a starship. Aboard Enterprise, Leonard dealt with viruses when they affected a crewmember or somebody brought them aboard, or maybe when they were called to help a planet or colony that was affected by an illness. It was never about long-term planning or research, and he could only guess that Jim wouldn't be too happy to bring aboard a virus that could potentially kill his entire crew, either.  
  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261,203 (July 21st, 2261) – 20:15 hours_**  
  
"You ever heard of an Admiral Marlow?"  
  
Jim frowned. "Doesn't ring a bell, no. But you know how I am about that kind of stuff. If they're not trying to interfere with ship's business or I have to deal with them for some other reason, I probably don't know them. Why?"  
  
Leonard shrugged, shifting on his chair.  
  
"He's going to come to the station tomorrow. Apparently he was on Braga IV for the past couple of days, and he and his escort as going to accompany the medical transport to the station tomorrow."  
  
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound like the usual way for an Admiral to travel."  
  
"He will be on his own ship, as far as I know. But still it's strange. I haven't heard of any official reason for him to be in the system, so I was wondering if you had heard anything."  
  
Jim shook his head. "No. But I guess with a trading outpost of that size about to be established, there's always some last minute or secretive negotiations going on. I'm due to talk to Pike in two days, I can ask him about Marlow if you want."  
  
"Sure, you do that. Thanks."  
  
"Don't mention it," Jim waved him off. Looking back at the screen, his expression sobered. "So, you're ready to start working with the real thing, huh? No more safe experiments with the dead virus."  
  
"We'll get the samples delivered tomorrow, yes."  
  
"That's…great, really."  
  
"We both knew it was going to come at some point, Jim."  
  
Jim nodded. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. So…"  
  
He fell silent, and Leonard raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic hesitation. Normally his husband suffered from the foot-in-mouth disease more often than he hesitated to say something.  
  
"Jim?"  
  
"You never told me what this virus actually does."  
  
And if Leonard had his way, Jim was never going to know. Besides, he could access the information on his own if he only wanted to, and he wasn't too sure that he wanted to be the one to share the gory details with the man he loved. Jim worried enough about this whole thing already.  
  
"It kills people, Jim."  
  
"And I know that's enough of a reason to try and do something against it, but it still doesn't tell me anything about what happens to someone who's infected. How they get sick, and how long it takes."  
  
Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed.  
  
"It's an airborne pathogen. It can be transmitted by infected blood, but basically being in the same room with an infected person means chances are good you're going to catch it. It's highly infectious. Incubation is fast once the virus is in your bloodstream; the first symptoms start showing up after six to eight hours. The…it causes a lot of havoc in a body, Jim. But basically what it does is break down the cell membranes, and rapidly at that. Organ function is impaired within twelve hours, and the first organ failures can occur within twenty-four hours after the initial infection. And because it's one bastard of a virus it prevents blood clotting. Patients start hemorrhaging, and because there's no blood clotting there's no way to fix the internal bleeding without causing even more damage. Basically, the patients bleed to death, and before you ask – yes, it's painful. Death usually occurs within forty-eight hours after the infection."  
  
He could give Jim more details, but Leonard would rather not if he could avoid it. It wasn't as if worrying from a distance was going to improve anything about their situation. And Leonard had worked with extremely dangerous pathogens aboard Enterprise as well. It was nothing new, and while every case was different, he knew how to deal with such a task.  
  
"That's how infection is in a Bragan, right?"  
  
Leonard nodded. "Yes. But Bragans are humanoid, and they're physically similar to humans, at least where it counts. Their cardiovascular systems are similar, the blood composition is similar, the basic organ functions are similar. Even without a case of an infection in a human to judge by, it's no leap to assume that the virus would affect a human similarly, if not the same way."  
  
Judged by the expression on Jim's face, it absolutely wasn't what he had wanted to hear. There was something in his face that made Leonard want to reach out and touch him, an urge he had been battling more and more often during their daily conversations lately. He missed being able to simply hold Jim close when he realized that something was bothering his husband.  
  
"You'll be careful, right?"  
  
It sounded far more vulnerable than Jim normally allowed himself to be, and Leonard didn't know how to soothe that anxiety other than with a promise which he knew wasn't really going to be enough to assuage Jim's worries.  
  
"You know I am, Jim. And we've updated all emergency protocols so that they're up to Enterprise's standard. So you worry about mapping your asteroid field, Jim. I've got things under control here."  
  
"I'd still feel better if you were home, Bones."  
  
"Me too, Jim. Trust me. But we're halfway through the three months already. I'll be back before you know it."  
  
Jim smiled, and Leonard was a little relieved to see the small wrinkles in the corners of his eyes as he did so. It was a far cry from being a genuine smile, the kind Jim only gave when he was entirely relaxed and at ease, but at least he wasn't faking it for Leonard's sake.  
  
"I dreamed of you last night."  
  
Leonard had known Jim for a long time, and he knew what a sentence like this could possibly lead to.  
  
"Was it R-rated?"  
  
Jim laughed. "No, it was suitable for all audiences. Not that I'd want an audience when I'm with you, but still. It was…you were there, that's all. I really want you back home, with me."  
  
"And I want to be back home, Jim. I really do. And I will be, once this is over and done with."  
  
"You do know I'm never letting you out of my sight again, right?"  
  
Leonard laughed. "That won't become too much of a struggle, trust me. I'm not going away for a long time."  
  
Jim smiled at him then, the kind of smile he ever gave Leonard, and only when they were alone. Even through the video connection, it made Leonard's stomach give a funny jolt.  
  
"I love you, Jim."  
  
"I love you, too, Bones. And I miss you. Be careful, all right?"  
  
"I will. I'll call you tomorrow night. Good night, Jim."  
  
"Night Bones."  
  
Jim smiled at him again, and Leonard's finger hovered over the button for a few moments before he could bring himself to break the connection. But he did, eventually, and Leonard got up from his chair and went over towards the bathroom. He should really get to bed already. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.


	6. (5.)

**_Stardate 2261.204 (July 22nd, 2261) – 11:30 hours_**   
  
Captain Bartlett had been specific in his instructions. There was no possibility to beam the transporter containing the virus directly to Medical. The transporter wasn't designed to rematerialize something that was being held in a stasis field, so the only way to actually get the virus from the loading dock to Medical was to transport it there manually. And Bartlett had been thorough in his orders – all corridors were cleared of all personnel for the duration of the transport, and two security officers with medical scanners were guarding the crates, ready to seal off whatever section of the corridor they were in at the slightest sign of irregularities in their scanner readouts.  
  
It was overkill from both a medical as well as a security perspective, but Leonard bit his lip and said nothing about it. He was married to a commanding officer, and over the past years he had gotten a good glimpse into what made them tick. Control, in this case, and the urge to be in control of everything that was going on under his command was something Leonard knew only too well from Jim. The whole decision to research the virus on his space station had been beyond Bartlett's control, and it was a choice he wouldn't have made on his own. Enforcing rigid security measures far beyond the necessary was an attempt to reclaim at least a little control over the situation, and Leonard wasn't going to deny him that.  
  
He had to admit, though, that even he breathed a little easier once all transport crates had been brought to Medical and safely stowed away in the lab. There were still a lot of things to be done before Megan and he could get started on their work. All the other medical supplies had to be logged and unpacked, and every step along the way of working with the virus had to be documented, which included the process of unpacking it and placing the single stasis capsules in storage in the lab. The amount of paperwork alone was going to keep them occupied for most of the day, and that was even before they actually got down to running the first tests with the virus.  
  
Starfleet was a bureaucracy above everything else, Leonard had learned that a long time ago. There was no choice but to grit his teeth and get over and done with it, no matter how much he hated it. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he and Megan could lock themselves away in the lab and get started with the real work. Judged by the way she was twitching beside him, Megan felt similar about the whole thing.  
  
"Admiral Marlow, this is Lieutenant Parker, the station's CMO, and Lieutenant Commander McCoy, CMO of the USS Enterprise on temporary reassignment. They've been working on creating an antiviral to the virus that's breaking out regularly in the Bragan system."  
  
Admiral Marlow was a tall man with dark hair that was graying at the temples. Leonard had checked the database after last night's conversation with Jim, and the man looked pretty much exactly like he had done in the two-year old picture Leonard had found in the official personnel directory. He might be half a head taller than Leonard, and he was no slouch in the height department, but that alone didn't faze Leonard. He had never been overly impressed by rank since even idiots could rise up them, and physical height had even less to do with someone's achievements. Admiral or not, right now this man was nothing but the reason why Leonard wasn't in Medical, getting ready to do his damn job and work with the virus.  
  
It didn't help matters that the Admiral watched Megan appraisingly, but as soon as Bartlett mentioned Enterprise turned away from her and towards Leonard just as if she didn't exist. Leonard was used to this Pavlovian reflex a large part of the Admiralty had whenever they heard the name Enterprise, having experienced it far too often to still give a damn about it even if he didn't like it. But this was exactly the kind of behavior that got Megan riled up like nobody's business, and rightfully so.  
  
"Lieutenant Commander McCoy," the Admiral said pleasantly, extending a hand which Leonard shook only hesitantly. "Your reputation precedes you. I can hardly believe that life on Enterprise has become uneventful enough for you to seek your professional challenge somewhere else."  
  
"Starfleet's sudden tight schedule most certainly wasn't my decision, Admiral. My expertise was needed in creating this antiviral, so I came here."  
  
Marlow ignored the barb in Leonard's words completely. "And left Enterprise without her CMO. Well, then we can only hope that nothing unforeseen happens for as long as you're here. But from everything I've heard, Starfleet definitely found the right man to get the job done."  
  
"Without Doctor Parker's previous research and her expertise in Xenogenetics, we wouldn't yet be at a point where we have a preliminary antiviral to test."  
  
"Of course, of course." Marlow's voice was distracted, eyes darting to Megan and right back to Leonard. The translation was easy – he acknowledged Leonard's words, but didn't really want to discuss the point any further.  
"Be that as it may, I want you to have lunch with me Lieutenant Commander. It's been a long while since I heard any news from Enterprise."  
  
"With all due respect, Sir, but Doctor Parker and I really need to get back to work. We're on a tight schedule."  
  
"And I really appreciate all the hard work you two put in for Starfleet. However, I have to insist. Just one hour, Lieutenant Commander."  
  
Leonard didn't know what annoyed him more – the Admiral's blind insistence on that meal together, or his constant use of Leonard's military rank. Right now it was the fact that the man was stealing his time, but if he called him _Lieutenant Commander_ one more time, that might change quickly.  
  
Damn it, he really didn't have the time to be kissing up to some Admiral right now. Not to mention that he didn't do that kind of crap in the first place. He _worked_ for a living, and right now there was a little more at stake than just his personal preferences about how to handle Admirals (which was a choice between either _not at all_ , or _shove them out of the nearest airlock_ , neither of which seemed like a possible alternative right now).  
  
"Admiral Marlow, I assure you that I'm the wrong source for any kind of news from the Enterprise. I have been aboard this station for six weeks now…"  
  
"Now come on, Lieutenant Commander, don't force me to make this an order."  
  
And just like that, any discussion was over, Marlow seemingly so unused to anybody disagreeing with a decision he made that he didn't even consider Leonard's objections.  
  
"I'm sure we can find a corner in the mess hall that's not occupied yet." He turned towards Megan, gracing her with his attention for the first time since Leonard had been introduced to him. "I promise I'll return him in a timely manner, Doctor. I'm sure there's other work that will keep you occupied until the Lieutenant Commander's return."  
  
Leonard cast a helpless glance in the direction of Megan and Bartlett, but Megan only rolled her eyes at him and Bartlett gave a helpless shrug. It wasn't as if Leonard had expected either of them to stage an elaborate escape for him, but he had hoped for at least a little protest that was going to save him from having lunch with the Admiral. Apparently not. Just great. He sighed.  
  
"Save me some of the paperwork," he said to Megan, only to be rewarded with an unamused snort in response.  
  
"The whole lot of it, trust me Leonard."  
  
He had no choice, so Leonard soldiered up and followed the Admiral down the corridor. It was only lunch, after all. Just one meal, then he could go back to work.  
  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261.204 (July 22nd, 2261) – 12:25 hours_**   
  
Not the usual way for an Admiral to travel, that's what Jim had said, and Leonard had to agree. Marlow and the two officers he was traveling with had been in the Bragan system for the past five days, traveling aboard the Danube-class runabout that had brought them to the station this morning. Leonard had no idea about the starting point of their trip, he only knew that he hadn't been made aware of any Federation starships close by that could have dropped off the Admiral and the small ship. By tomorrow morning, the USS Ontario was scheduled to arrive at the outpost and take Marlow, his men and his ship aboard in order to transport them to Earth.  
  
 _Unusual_ didn't even begin to cut it.  
  
Normally, Admirals traveled with all the comforts and security Starfleet had to offer, and not aboard a small craft. The only advantage of a runabout was that it was inconspicuous and fast, and what the hell and Admiral would need all this secrecy for Leonard had no idea. Jim had mentioned how last minute and sometimes secretive negotiations were nothing unusual, yet still he couldn't wrap his mind around what could have an Admiral of Marlow's distinction come to the edge of the known universe in one of these cloak and dagger missions.  
  
But then again he was a doctor, not an Admiral, and frankly he couldn't care less. What did bother him however was the fact that he was sitting here, having lunch with the man, when he should be in Medical helping Megan get all the paperwork and administrative stuff out of the way. If they could work on it together, just maybe there'd be a chance for them to start the first test runs later in the evening. But he was stuck here, trying– and failing – to make small talk with the Admiral when all he wanted was to get back to work. Just brilliant.  
  
Noon wasn't his normal lunch time, either. Lunch usually took place somewhere between one and two, or whenever Christine shoved a sandwich at him during those times when Medical was too busy for him to leave. So Leonard poked and prodded around his plate without any real appetite, while Marlow showed no such hesitation and dug heartily into his meal. For some reason that still didn't deter him from involving Leonard in a conversation that on the surface seemed like a conversation about Enterprise, yet somehow underneath the surface felt like something far more personal than that.  
  
"I'd be lying if I said that me, like most of the Admiralty, am not reading every report about Enterprise with interest," Marlow finished a point the beginning of which Leonard had long since forgotten. "Over the past years, some of Captain Kirk's actions and decisions seemed…interesting, to say it neutrally."  
  
Leonard felt something angry stir inside of him.  
  
"He's a good Captain, Admiral. One who has the complete trust of his crew."  
  
"Oh, I do know that, Lieutenant Commander," Marlow replied with a smile. "Though of course one could assume that you are somewhat biased."  
  
Leonard drew breath to respond, an almost automatic instinct by now. The Admiral wasn't the first to assume that he and Jim were unable to maintain a professional working relationship, even after over three years during which they had never given anybody reason to believe so. But Marlow waved him off before he could even get a word in.  
  
"Now, Lieutenant Commander, we're not here to have that particular discussion."  
  
If they weren't, Leonard wondered why the man had even brought it up, but he bit his lip and said nothing. Come tomorrow morning, Marlow would be gone and Leonard could get back to normal. Besides, he knew what this was about. Marlow was testing him out, trying to get a feel for how to push him and where his limits were, and that didn't really help settle the bad gut feeling he had any. Because if Marlow was trying to gauge Leonard's reactions, that meant this whole conversation was driving towards something. And somehow, Leonard had the feeling he wasn't going to like it much.  
  
"Then what are we here to talk about?" Leonard asked, forcing himself to keep his voice neutral. Marlow shrugged and finished the last bite of his meal. Leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile, he regarded Leonard from underneath his bushy eyebrows.  
  
"I admit, mostly because I was curious. I told you, most of the Admirals are very attuned to what is happening on Enterprise. I wasn't lying when I said your reputation precedes you. I was curious to see what could make a man who had previously shown an extreme loyalty to crew and especially his Captain decide to leave said crew for such a long time. If you weren't newlywed, I'd say I could relate to the desire to spend some time away from the spouse."  
  
This wasn't what Leonard had expected, and even as his mind contemplated the impossibility of a scenario where he'd actually be glad to be separated from Jim, no matter for how long they had been married, his mouth was already answering.  
  
"Six months isn't exactly what I'd call newlywed, Sir."  
  
Not that it was any of the Admiral's business. Or a line of conversation Leonard wanted to pursue any further. If any of that bled into his tone of voice, Leonard didn't particularly care about it.  
  
"Of course not. And I was actually trying to point out that your dedication to your work is admirable, especially considering what you left behind in order to come here to this outpost."  
  
"Well, if you think it's so admirable, maybe you can pass on to the rest of the Admiralty that health concerns should precede trade negotiations at any time. If there had been such an interest in this virus a year ago, there wouldn't be the need for such a rush right now."  
  
Marlow inclined his head. "I see your point, Lieutenant Commander."  
  
The repeated use of his title ground on Leonard's nerves, and his knee was twitching restlessly beneath the table. He really didn't need the Admiral to patronize him, really not. What he needed was to get the hell back to Medical and get started on something really important. His hopes that the next time those in positions of power were going to consider health before profit were slim to nonexistent  
  
"Then I'm sure you understand that I want to get back to Medical as soon as possible. There's a lot of work that still needs to be done."  
  
Marlow shook his head. "I'm afraid not for today, Lieutenant Commander."  
  
And that statement stopped Leonard short, because it weren't only the words that came as a surprise. Marlow's entire posture and his expression had changed from one moment to the next, and where he had been playing the part of the curious Admiral indulging in a conversation before, his expression was suddenly hard and his eyes were boring into Leonard's with an intensity he hadn't previously shown.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"You heard me, Lieutenant Commander. All work in Medical except for emergency treatments will be adjourned until my departure tomorrow morning."  
  
And damn if that made just a lick of sense.  
  
"May I ask why?"  
  
Marlow shook his head stiffly.  
  
"No, in fact you may not. As the highest ranking medical officer I felt it was my duty to inform you personally."  
  
Leonard could feel the frown creeping upon his own face. "Then you should have spoken to Lieutenant Parker. She's the station's CMO, and despite my higher rank she's the one who's officially in charge."  
  
"I don't particularly care how you and Doctor Parker decided to split responsibilities, you still outrank her. I have hereby informed you of my decision, and I expect you to adhere to it."  
  
"Captain Bartlett…"  
  
"Has received my written orders upon my arrival and will be aware of the situation by now."  
  
The bad feeling in Leonard's gut increased tenfold. "So you're making this an order."  
  
"Did I leave any room for doubt? Of course it's an order, Lieutenant Commander."  
  
"Sir, with all due respect…"  
  
Again, the Admiral interrupted him. "You know, it's interesting how you keep using that phrase when it's clear to everyone who only ever caught a glimpse of your personal file that you don't have a shred of the respect you should be having for your superior officers, with the possible exception of the one you're married to. So let's put aside all that crap, Lieutenant Commander. You have received an order, and I expect you to follow it."  
  
Leonard's hands were balled into fists, so tightly that his blunt nails dug into the skin of his palms. His communicator chirped in his pocket, and he got up from his seat immediately.  
  
"I will follow that order as soon as I receive it from my CO, Sir."  
  
"Remember that this CO is not your husband, Lieutenant Commander. You might be surprised to find that his decision is not going to indulge your wishes."  
  
Despite the situation, Leonard had to bite back a laugh. "If you think that anything about Jim's command style is designed to indulge me, you never read any of those reports you claim to have been so interested in. I will return to Medical now until I receive different orders from Captain Bartlett, Admiral."  
  
He turned to leave without wasting any further time for politeness and flicked his communicator open.  
  
"McCoy here."  
  
He wasn't surprised to hear that it was Megan's voice that answered him.  
  
"It's Megan. Leonard, you should come down to Medical immediately."  
  
His steps quickened automatically. "What's the emergency?"  
  
"No emergency." And truly, Megan sounded more annoyed than alerted. "Just something you need to see."  
  
"I'm on my way," he replied and flipped the communicator shut.  
  
It wasn't a long walk to Medical, and as he rounded the last corner he could already hear raised voices from inside the Medical Bay. Quickening his steps even further, he was barely slower than running when he burst through the doors. The sight that greeted him was unexpected, and it took him a moment to take in what was happening.  
  
The medical bay as such was empty, save for two of the nurses who were standing in front of the door leading to the laboratory, looking every bit unsure what to do. The door to the lab was open, which was unusual, and from the inside Leonard could hear Megan's voice argue loudly with someone else. It was a male voice, and since it clearly wasn't Doctor Valdez's voice, whoever was arguing with Megan had absolutely no business being in the lab in the first place.  
  
Leonard quickened his steps, brushing past the nurses into the lab. The first thing he noticed was the large transport crate blocking most of the free space at the back of the lab. Normally, medical supplies were unloaded in the docking bay and brought straight to the main room of Medical, but since the crate contained the box holding the virus, it had been part of Bartlett's instructions to get every brought to the lab for unpacking. It made sense, since it was a non-vital part of the station that could be sealed off immediately and completely in case things went wrong, but still.  
  
If Leonard had any say in it, the virus would have been transported separately to begin with, no matter the additional shielding that the medical transport container provided. But it hadn't been Leonard's decision, and now he and Megan would have to unpack all medical supplies by hand right here in the lab. Once they finally got around to doing so, of course.  
  
Right now, they didn't even get to the container in the first place.  
  
Megan was standing a few steps into the room, her back to the door, and she was arguing in a loud voice with the two men who were standing in front of the transport container, effectively blocking her access to it. Leonard immediately recognized the two officers who had come aboard the station with Admiral Marlow. Lieutenant Hanson and Commander Adams, he remembered form their earlier introduction. And no matter if they traveled with the Admiral or thought they alone were responsible to carry out the Admiral's orders, they weren't cleared to even be in the lab in the first place.  
  
"All right, what's going on here?"  
  
The loud argument stopped at the sound of his voice, and without turning around Megan immediately seized the moment of silence.  
  
"Those two," she gestured at them emphatically, as if there could be any doubt as to who she was talking about, "came into the lab without clearance just as I was about to start unpacking the crate. They refuse to leave, and they refuse to let me get to the container to start unpacking the supplies."  
  
Leonard took another step forward so that he was standing by Megan's side. It would make for a funny image under different circumstances, the two of them facing off two officers over a crate of medical supplies, but Leonard didn't have any capacities left for amusement today.  
  
"Lieutenant, Commander, you are not cleared to be in this room. Leave, of I'll have you removed by Security."  
  
Lieutenant Hanson seemed undecided, but Commander Adams immediately took a step towards Leonard and shook his head firmly. Leonard didn't need to see the man's service record, everything he needed to know was obvious from the man's build and stance alone. Tall, muscular, straight posture and the behavior of someone who was used to confrontations like this one pretty much pegged him as someone who had been working as a security officer for a large part of his life, whereas Hanson had all the stoop and alert eyes of someone who was more used to take care of the administrative side of things and hardly ever got out to see a real confrontation.  
  
Yet why the hell Admiral Marlow would travel with a security and a paperwork pusher was beyond Leonard's comprehension.  
  
"I'm under direct orders from Admiral Marlow, Doctor." Adams said, no room for doubt in his voice. "All work in Medical save for emergency treatments is suspended for the duration of the Admiral's stay on the station. That includes unpacking the delivery of medical supply."  
  
Megan turned towards Leonard, her eyes narrowed in anger. "I told him that it was a load of bullshit, Leonard. The Admiral can't just shut us down, it's ridiculous."  
  
"It isn't." Leonard ran a hand over his face with a sigh, noticing how Megan's eyes grew wide at his words. "He just told me the same thing. Made it an order, in fact."  
  
"You're kidding me."  
  
Leonard shook his head. "I wish I was, Megan."  
  
"Does Captain Bartlett know about this?"  
  
"Marlow said he did, yes. Trust me, getting him down here to make some sense of this is the first thing I'm gonna do as soon as we got these two idiots out of the lab."  
  
Turning back to Commander Adams, Leonard squared his shoulders. If serving aboard Enterprise for all these years had taught him one thing, then it was when to pick his fights and where to fight them out.  
  
"All right. I get that you're under orders, but this is a critical medical station and you two don't have the clearance to even be in this room. You can just as well guard your damn crate from the other side of the door, at least until we got this whole mess cleared up."  
  
"Admiral Marlow's orders were…"  
  
"I don't care if his orders were for you to chain yourself to this crate and defend it with your life, Commander. This whole thing doesn't make a lick of sense to me either way, but it's protocol that nobody who doesn't have the right medical clearance is allowed to be in this room. You're violating a number of Starfleet regulations with every second you stay in here, and if you two don't move out of this room right now, you can rest assured that I'm going to put each and every one of those transgressions into my report. This is not up for discussion, Commander."  
  
Adams looked at Leonard as if he was itching to argue the point just for the sake of fighting it out, but after a moment he nodded.  
  
"After you," he grumbled, gesturing towards the door. Leonard nearly laughed at the insinuation that he was trying to trick the two officers out of the lab in order to get to the crate with supplies. The thing about knowing which fights to pick was also when to admit temporary defeat. It was a lesson Jim was still struggling with, but Leonard wasn't going to spend time arguing with someone who wasn't going to make the final decision. He was conserving his energy for Captain Bartlett and Admiral Marlow.  
  
Grabbing Megan's upper arm, he started pulling her out of the room. Megan was tense under his hold, and she glared at Leonard as if he had just betrayed one of her principles.  
  
"What are you doing?" She hissed at him.  
  
"Getting them out of the lab containing the virus, for one. Listen Megan, if Adams is under orders, he's not going to bulge no matter for how long you yell at him. We're not going to fight this out with those two, trust me."  
  
Megan still looked furious and – above all – unconvinced, but she allowed Leonard to pull her out of the room. Adams and Hanson were following with a few paces distance, but they were following. That was the main point. As soon as they had cleared out of the lab and the door had hissed shut behind them, Adams took up position in front of the door, blocking the entrance with his arms crossed over his chest. Leonard just glanced at the maneuver with an eye-roll, then pulled Megan over towards the other side of the room.  
  
"What the hell is going on here, Leonard?" Megan hissed as soon as they were out of earshot and Leonard let go of her arm. "Where did those two idiots come from?"  
  
Leonard tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what's going on. All I know is that Marlow spent half an hour trying to get on my good terms before he decided to drop the bomb and ordered us to stop working for as long as he's here. I have no idea what's going on, but I told him I was going to follow that order as soon as I heard it from Bartlett."  
  
Megan ran a hand through her hair, the movement pulling random strands out of the tight bun. She looked up at Leonard imploringly.  
  
"What the hell odes Marlow even care what we're doing here? It was him who decided to randomly drop by, and now he's holding up our work?"  
  
"I have no idea, Megan. Maybe he's scared of the virus, maybe he has something else in mind, I have no damn clue. But trust me, I'm going to find out." He gestured towards Marlow's two men. "They're not getting back into the lab without the right code, so let them feel important for a few minutes while we go figure out what's going on."  
  
Megan cast a last look at Adams, who was standing still as a statue and glowering at the nurses if they dared to step too close to him.  
  
"I don't like it."  
  
"Me neither, trust me. That's exactly why we're going to figure out what's going on. Let's hear what Captain Bartlett has to say on the matter."  
  
  
 ** _Stardate 2261.204 (July 22nd, 2261) – 12:58 hours_**  
  
"It's an order, Lieutenant Commander McCoy."  
  
The fact that Captain Bartlett used his military rank instead of his medical title was a good way to judge that the man was in an unearthly mood. Well, he could just get in line in the pissed off club, because Leonard wasn't exactly calm and chipper himself.  
  
Bartlett was sitting behind the desk in his ready room, dark eyes trained firmly at Leonard and Megan standing in front of his desk. He had all the air of a man not to be swayed around him, yet still Leonard couldn't help but try.  
  
"Sir, only yesterday you agreed that we're supposed to get the tests with the virus underway as soon as possible…"  
  
"And I still stand by that. But now I have orders stating that all research has to be suspended for the duration of Admiral Marlow's stay aboard the station."  
  
"Fine," Megan interrupted. "But I don't understand why we can't unpack the supplies and get all the paperwork out of the way until then. With all protocols that need to be considered, that's going to take us most of the afternoon anyway, then at least we'll be ready to start working with the virus tomorrow morning after the Admiral's departure."  
  
"No Lieutenant. The crate with the virus has to remain exactly where it is, which means that all other medical supplies are going to remain where they are as well since they're packed in the same crate. Unless there is a valid reason why you need supplies from the delivery today, I'm not going to disobey a direct order, no matter if I personally agree to it or not. So, is there a valid medical reason why you need to access the medical supplies?"  
  
Leonard drew a deep breath, and though he wanted nothing more than to make up a reason that would force them to go against those orders, he shook his head.  
  
"No, sir."  
  
Bartlett nodded. "Good. Was there anything else?"  
  
Leonard had a few choice things that came to mind, but nothing he wanted to say in present company. He knew that sometimes a Captain didn't necessarily have to like his orders, yet still had no other choice but to obey them. It wasn't going to do if he added even more fuel to the fire. Megan, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the same reservations.  
  
"Sir, did Admiral Marlow by chance explain his reasons for that particular order?"  
  
"He did not, Lieutenant, and he's not obliged to. Maybe this virus creeps him out just as much as it does the rest of us, or maybe he has different reasons entirely. I don't know, and I'm in no position to question his orders as long as they don't pose a security risk to the station. Do I like it? No. Just as little as I know the both of you like it. But orders are orders, and if necessary, I'm going to make sure my officers follow them. Did I make myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Megan ground out through clenched teeth. Leonard nodded his agreement, no matter how much he didn't like it.  
  
"Good." Bartlett picked up the PADD he had been working on when they had come into his ready room. "If that's all, doctors, I need to get back to this. Dismissed."  
  
There was nothing further to say, so they both turned around and left the ready room, left Ops and went down into the corridor that was going to take them back to Medical.  
  
"Well, that was enlightening," Megan grumbled as they entered a turbolift. "We know exactly as much as we did before we came here."  
  
"I'd say it's a safe bet Bartlett doesn't know much, either. I doubt Marlow is an Admiral of the sharing kind. All the Captain knows is that he received orders that piss him off, but which he has to follow."  
  
Megan looked at him for a second before the turbolift doors opened. "You sound like you're defending him."  
  
"Marlow?" Leonard laughed. "No way. But Bartlett? It's not the first time I've seen something like this happen, Megan. Jim doesn't always like his orders either, but as long as they don't put anyone aboard in danger, he can't do much about them. There's tweaking them to get some leeway, and then there's downright disobedience. And unpacking the medical supplies right now is the latter. Bartlett knows that, too."  
  
Megan huffed as they continued their way down the corridor. "I don't like it, Leonard. I don't like the idea of Marlow coming here, telling everyone what to do."  
  
Leonard raised his eyebrow. "What, and you think I do? But look on the bright side – he'll be gone tomorrow morning, and then the two of us can spend as much time with this lethal virus as we want."  
  
Megan raised her hand in order to playfully punch Leonard in the arm. He took a quick step to the side to get out of her reach, but suddenly the floor beneath him lurched. Before his brain even had the chance to register what was going on, he lost his balance as everything around him shook. From the corner of his eyes he saw Megan stumble, and somewhere further down the corridor a crewmember was tumbling to the ground. Flailing out his hand in search of something to hold on to, Leonard experienced a sudden moment of shocking clarity.  
  
The station normally didn't lurch all of a sudden. And as he lost his footing, still searching for something to hold on to, Leonard knew that this was very bad news.


	7. (6.)

**_Stardate 2261.204 (July 22nd, 2261) – 13:15 hours_**  
  
Leonard lost the fight for balance, but he was quickly scrambling to his feet as all around him alarm klaxons began to sound and the lights of the red alert started flashing in the corridor. It was a reaction schooled purely by years of experience of serving aboard a starship, one that didn't require conscious thought. From the corner of his eye he made sure that Megan was following him, and that nobody who was with them in the corridor had gotten hurt due to the sudden lurch of the station. The assessment took a split second, not more. Then Leonard was running.  
  
His feet were moving automatically, and he was barely aware that he was running the remaining distance towards Medical, Megan right at his heels. The corridors suddenly filled with crewmembers running to their posts, dodging people who were getting in their way. Leonard didn't notice any of the faces; all he saw were uniforms moving in every which direction, obstacles on his way to his post that he had to weave past. As soon as he and Megan were back in their domain, Leonard slapped the communications panel next to the door.  
  
"McCoy to Ops, what the hell is going on?"  
  
"Two Klingon Bird-of-Prey just uncloaked and opened fire on the station. Prepare medical, Doctor," a voice answered. It wasn't Bartlett, but another of the Ops officers, though Leonard couldn't connect a name or a face to the voice. It didn't matter, either. They were under attack, which meant they had other things to worry about right now.  
  
"Prepare for incoming, and someone get Doctor Valdez down here," Leonard called out to the room at large, satisfied to see that the command was immediately followed by a flurry of coordinated activity. His medical crew aboard Enterprise worked like a well-oiled machine in these situations, but he was glad to see that the team here seemed similarly prepared for a crisis, even if they weren't used to it.  
  
Leonard pulled up all accessible information from Ops on the main screen. Being under attack, the people in Ops had better things to do than to update Medical on what was going on, but he needed to know what was happening so that he could prepare for what they were going to have to deal with. For now, the shields were holding up and only minor damage reports were coming in, but Leonard knew only too well how soon that could change.  
  
Just because there was no structural damage didn't mean there were no casualties to report. Even with the shields holding up, weapons fire overloaded circuits and blew out relays all over the station. It wasn't going to be long until the first crewmembers were going to come in with cuts and burns because they had been standing next to a circuit or plasma relay that blew up, or because they had been working on a station as it overloaded. The first injuries were always minor – burns, cuts, and the occasional head trauma from being in the wrong place at the wrong time when things that weren't secured properly dropped down. As long as the shields were holding up, the injuries they'd have to deal with would be minor. If the shields didn't hold up…Leonard forced that thought away as the first crewmember came into Medical, holding a bloody arm to his chest. There was no time for worst-case scenarios now.  
  
On the day of his arrival, Leonard had given Megan that speech about how he had no intention to take charge of her medical bay unless the situation warranted it. And it hadn't just been empty talk, he had meant every word he said. It was just that he couldn't get out of his skin, and the responsibility of being in charge during a crisis had been so deeply ingrained in him over the past years that it wasn't even a conscious decision at that moment. Admittedly he had more experience with this than any of the medical staff aboard the station, but that didn't even play a part in Leonard's thoughts at that moment. They were under attack, someone needed to take charge, so he stepped in.  
  
If Megan noticed, or had any thoughts about his taking charge of Medical, she didn't voice them. And, just like Leonard, she was far too busy to even start a discussion about rank and who was supposed to be in charge. The first injuries were starting to fill up Sickbay for treatment, plasma burns, cuts and minor trauma injuries just like Leonard had suspected. And they needed to be treated fast, because everyone was needed at their posts if at all possible. It was easy to ignore in the treacherous safety of Medical, right in the middle of the station, but out there were Klingons and the firefight was still going on.  
  
Another reason why Leonard was glad the injuries he had to treat were minor. Despite the station's shields, they could still feel every impact, every time the Klingon weapons hit the station, no matter if the force of the shots were deflected by the shields. The station rocked and lurched enough for him to be glad that he wasn't required to perform any kind of surgery right now.  
  
He caught Megan's eyes as a particularly vicious impact rocked the station so that he had to pull away the dermal regenerator he had just been using until everything settled again. Megan was staring at him from one biobed over, a hypospray in her hand and her eyes wide. It came as a little bit of a shock to Leonard, until he reminded himself that despite her experience as a doctor, Megan had been a researcher for the most part so far. She had worked in safe environments, and probably had next to no experience in battle.  
  
With a quick look at the main monitor he flashed her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  
  
"Shields are holding up, Megan."  
  
"Really? It doesn't feel like it."  
  
He didn't tell her that being under attack without shields felt different. And neither did he mention that for all their defenses, they were a stationary target opposed to two vessels that could move at will. Or that while the shields were holding up, they were already down to 82 percent. There was no need to spook her any further, and he really needed her focused on her job right now.  
  
"They're holding up with only minor damage. Besides, the station is equipped to fire back, so it's not like we're not putting up a fight. And it's standard Starfleet protocol to send out a distress call when under attack, every ship in the quadrant must have received it. Help is on its way."  
  
Especially those last words felt hollow. They were way out of populated Federation territory, and the next ship that could come to their aid wasn't exactly within easy traveling distance. Of course Bartlett would have sent out a distress call by now, but if this string of bad luck continued, the closest Federation ship was probably Enterprise. Leonard wasn't going to count on anybody coming to their aid within the next couple of hours, and the Bragans didn't have ships that were equipped to take up firefights with not only one, but two Klingon bird-of-prey. The station was equipped with two small vessels designed for defense purposes, but those were no match to a Klingon ship. If help didn't come soon, they were screwed.  
  
Leonard forced those thoughts away as he declared his patient fit to resume his duties and moved towards the next one. Medical was filling up with the first serious injuries, and patients who couldn't be released straight away but had to be monitored or undergo bone regeneration before they could even think about releasing them.  
  
There were too few nurses, too, and nobody in the room seemed to have any battle experience. There were a couple of medical ensigns, but those were not trained to treat anything but the most minor injuries on their own. Normally, Leonard expected his staff to function under circumstances like this. And on Enterprise he could rely on that. Here, he knew, that was different, and he could actually be glad that the crew was holding it together the way they were.  
  
It was his job to keep things together, and Leonard was aware of that. He bit his lip whenever a nurse referred to him for something Chapel would have decided on her own, he silently adjusted medication dosages and directed people where they were needed in the calmest voice he could muster. It was additional effort, but it helped keep everyone calm and focused on the task at hand, instead of the altogether too frightening thought of the Klingon warships attacking the station.  
  
Leonard lost all sense of time treating the patients that kept trickling into Medical with increasing frequency. Most injured crewmembers were able to make it to Medical on their own, or with the help of someone else, but twice they had to send out a team to transport injured crewmembers to the Medical Bay.  
  
Always, Leonard kept one eye on the readings on the monitor, and he didn't like what he saw. The shields were still holding up, but they were continuously going down. And while he had the feeling that the frequency of enemy hits had decreased, the blasts that hit the station seemed more forceful. If the damage reports were anything to go by, the damage sustained was getting worse, and so were the injuries they had to treat. Under normal circumstances Leonard would have two of the injured Ensigns undergoing surgery by now instead of keeping them stable with medication, and it was getting progressively worse.  
  
"D'Arto to Medical," the comm system squawked amongst the sound of static. "I need immediate medical transport on Level G, section 24. Lieutenant Hawthorne fell over the railing in docking bay 2. He's not moving."  
  
Leonard was busy treating a compound bone fracture with an additional side-dish of arterial bleeding, and he looked up to see if anyone else was able to respond.  
  
"I got it," Valdez called out, gesturing for two nurses to follow him as he grabbed an emergency med-kit and hurried out of the room.  
  
"Doctor Valdez is on his way, Lieutenant. Keep Hawthorne still and make sure that he's breathing, help is on its way. McCoy out."  
  
One more trouble spot taken care of, but with only three doctors they were helplessly overwhelmed by all this even without any of them going on rescue missions outside of Medical. His patient's bleeding fixed, Leonard set the Osteo-regenerator to work and stepped away from the bed to get started on the next patient when suddenly the floor underneath his feet shook again with another impact of weapon's fire. He could just about steady himself with a hand against the foot of the nearest bed, and just as he thought he had gotten his bearings again a blast of heat hit him out of nowhere.   
  
The sound came with the fragment of a second's delay – electrical sizzle followed by the sound of a small explosion that made Leonard stumble on his feet again. He was coughing and his eyes burned with smoke that suddenly seemed to be billowing up from everywhere, until a second later the automatic fire extinguishing system kicked in and flame suppressant sprayed out of the ceiling fixtures to quell the fire.  
  
Leonard straightened up and cast a quick look around the room. Fortunately most patients were located on the other side of the room where Megan was working on a patient. At first glance, nobody on her side seemed to be injured.  
  
"Anybody hurt?"  
  
An assortment of murmurs and headshakes from Megan's side of the room, but Leonard saw two bodies amidst the damage that had once been the storage cabinets lining the wall of the room.  
  
"Damn it, I need some help over here!"  
  
"My patient's critical", Megan replied. "Ortiz, go help him."  
  
By the time Leonard reached the damaged side of the room, nurse Harper was slowly scrambling back to her feet, her left arm clutched tightly to her chest and her face a pained grimace.  
  
"Sit down on one of the beds, Harper, I'll be with you in a moment."  
  
The second prone body belonged to another member of the nursing staff. Nurse Guitierrez had been standing closer to the source of the blast, and now was lying motionlessly on the floor, covered in soot and the remains of the fire suppressant. There were burns on the side of his face, and a myriad of small cuts, most with shards still embedded in the skin, were lining his cheek and jaw. Leonard quickly dropped to his knees and ran his scanner over the prone body.  
  
"Nothing broken," he concluded after checking the readouts. A concussion, but while that was not good for as long as Guitierrez was unconscious, it couldn't be helped now. "Ortiz, help me get him up on the biobed."  
  
Together, the two of them hefted the male nurse up on the nearest bed. Leonard checked the man over again, then loaded a hypospray with a painkiller and a broadband antibiotic and injected it into Guitierrez' neck. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the instrument tray and handed them to Ortiz.  
  
"Get those shards out of the wounds. Disinfect the cuts, apply the standard gel for burns and then treat him with the dermal regenerator. Keep an eye on the readouts, and call me if anything changes or if he wakes up."  
  
"Aye, Sir."  
  
But Leonard barely heard him, already turning towards Nurse Harper. She had broken her collarbone, and while she was trying to put up a brave front, it was obvious that she was in a lot of pain. Another injection of painkiller, this time for her, but the rest was nothing he could fix easily.  
  
"I just need a few minutes, Doctor, then I'll get back to work."  
  
Leonard laughed mirthlessly as he reached for the Osteo-regenerator. "Yeah, right. You and I both know that you're not going to be working until that collarbone is fixed." He put the device in place and activated it. "Sit back and let this thing do its work. I'm going to need you later on."  
  
Harper didn't look too pleased, but she didn't disagree again. Leonard ran his hand through his hair and activated the nearest comm console.  
  
"McCoy to Ops. We've taken direct damage in Medical, some relay or whatever else got fried during the last hit and blew away half the wall."  
  
For a moment there was silence, then he heard Captain Bartlett's voice for the first time since this nightmare had started. "Any casualties?"  
  
"Minor injuries compared to what could have happened. A whole lot of equipment got damaged, though."  
  
"I'll send someone down as soon as I can spare them. Right now maintaining shields is the main priority, Doctor."  
  
"Aye Sir. It would help crew morale down here to know help was on its way, though."  
  
Another pause. "We sent out a distress signal, but our long range receivers were the first thing to get damaged. We don't know if anyone replied. According to all last reports, the closest Federation ship is Enterprise. So you'll have to keep Medical together for a little longer, Doctor."  
  
"Understood. McCoy out."  
  
Leonard deactivated the comm with a small curse, surveying the mess in front of him. The wall separating Medical from the corridor outside had been lined with storage and supply closets and shelves. Leonard was no technician, he had no idea what exactly had happened, but he didn't need to be an engineer to know that something in the wall behind the cabinets, some circuits or relays, had overloaded and blown up. A broken computer console was still smoking slightly, and the floor was littered with debris, the remains of fire depressant, and hundreds of broken vials and instrument parts. It didn't take a thorough investigation to know that barely anything could be salvaged from this mess.  
  
Damn.  
  
At least help was on its way. Or at least it was worth assuming it was so, because without long distance receivers they couldn't be sure anybody had received their distress signal. And if the closest ship was really Enterprise, help was still a few hours away.  
  
Leonard didn't want to imagine the scene on the Bridge when Enterprise received the distress signal. He could imagine Nyota's expression as she informed Jim of the transmission. And Leonard was sure that as soon as his husband heard the words "Starfleet Outpost Braga IV" and "Klingon attack" in the same sentence, Enterprise would be at maximum warp less than a minute later. And if Jim didn't happen to be on duty when the call came in, Leonard found himself hoping that they'd already be on their way by the time someone – Spock, probably – informed him of it.  
  
Either way, Jim was going to be worried sick – and rightfully so, judged by the impacts that still rocked the station – but no amount of worry was going to make Enterprise come here faster. Which meant they'd have to hold on until then.  
  
"All right everybody, you heard the Captain. We'll have to manage on our own just for a little while longer."  
  
He was interrupted by loud wails from the biobed holding Megan's patient. The heart monitor was blaring in alarm, and even through Megan's frantic attempts at resuscitation, Leonard saw the amount of blood the patient on the bed had lost, and he knew that no matter how many hyposprays she'd be stabbing into the patient's neck, it was a lost cause.  
  
"Give me another 20cc of adrenaline," Megan called to the nurse who was assisting her, but Leonard shook his head and gently pushed the young woman aside to step to Megan's side. If the first two dosages of adrenaline hadn't yielded any results, a third wasn't going to do the trick, either.  
  
"Megan…"  
  
"Damn it, I said 20cc of adrenaline!"  
  
Seeing that nobody was going to give her the medication, Megan reached for it herself, but Leonard took the hypospray out of her fingers.  
  
"There's nothing you can do, Megan."  
  
"No! Damn it, I have to do something."  
  
Leonard shook his head. "No. Right now, all you can do is take care of those that still have a chance, okay?"  
  
It was the hardest lesson for every doctor, and it didn't get any easier no matter how often one experienced it, but he really needed for Megan to focus on what she could do right now. Trying to work a medical miracle on someone who was beyond help was not going to help anybody.  
  
"Go look after nurse Guitierrez, I left Ortiz with him but I don't know if he ever handled a dermal regenerator before, okay?"  
  
Megan still had her eyes focused on the body of the dead crewmember in front of her, but when Leonard gently touched her hand did she finally meet his eyes.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"We're all scared, okay? But we need to keep it together until help arrives."  
  
Megan nodded. "I know. I can do that."  
  
"I know you can."  
  
He squeezed her shoulder as she turned around to make her rounds amongst the patients they had admitted, and Leonard's attention was quickly drawn away when the pneumatic hiss of the doors announced new arrivals. He turned just in time to see Lieutenant Phrax stumbling in, her arm draped over and most of her weight leaning onto a young ensigns, one of the kind who looked young enough to still be in school.  
  
The young Denobulan's uniform was blood-soaked on her entire right side, and she appeared to be barely conscious.  
  
"Lieutenant," Leonard called, immediately hurrying over to take some of her weight. With the help of the young ensign he moved Phrax onto the nearest biobed and pulled up her uniform shirt. A large gash was running down her side, and while the bleeding wasn't strong enough to suggest an arterial source, the blood loss still worried him. Especially since Lieutenant Phrax had enough problems with her blood and its oxygen content to begin with, she definitely didn't need to lose any of that to make it all even worse.  
  
Though she was holding on to consciousness by a thread, the female Denobulan gave Leonard a weak smile. Leonard managed a small smile back even though most of his attention was focused on getting the bleeding to stop as quickly as possible.  
  
"You know, Lieutenant, someone who has as many problems with their blood should be a lot more concerned to keep it inside their body," he said gruffly, but with an underlying fondness, and Phrax' weak smile widened a little, even though she didn't have enough strength to reply. The bleeding was bad, but fortunately Leonard managed to get it under control quickly. But he couldn't help but notice how Phrax' breathing grew flat and more rapid, reaching an almost wheezing cadence by the time Leonard closed up the wound.  
  
Phrax' eyes widened, fear a natural reaction to the fact that she realized she couldn't breathe properly. Though that wasn't right – she only felt as if she didn't get enough air. The problem was that her body didn't get sufficient oxygen from those breaths, but that was a distinction Phrax probably didn't care about right now.  
  
"Looks like you're due for your next shot of hemoglobin supplementary a little early, Lieutenant." Leonard tried to add a little cheer to his voice, anything to distract Phrax from what she was going through. But as he turned around to get the medication out of the supply closet, he suddenly stopped short.  
  
The medication Phrax needed had been in the storage units along the wall, easy at hand because it was used regularly. Only that overload earlier had blown the supply units to smithereens. And those vials that had survived the initial blast had taken a tumble to the ground, where they now lay in a mess of broken vials and a disgusting mix of medication serums and fire suppressant. There was no way he was going to use medication from that floor to inject into a patient, even in the unlikely case he was going to find an undamaged vial of Phrax' hemoglobin supplementary.  
  
"Damn it!"  
  
His curse drew Megan's attention, and there must have been something in her face, because she stopped instructing Ortiz on the correct application of burn gel and came over towards him.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"Nothing," he grumbled. "Just some unexpected complications."  
  
Despite the fact how much the events of the previous hour – or two, or however else long this had been going on – had shaken her, Megan still managed to glare at Leonard at his court reply.  
  
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"It means that I need some medications from the delivery in the lab. Phrax needs her hemoglobin supplementary, and what we still had out here is gone after that overload."  
  
Leonard ran a hand through his hair, but there was no avoiding it. Until now, he hadn't even been aware of Commander Adams' continuous presence in the Medical Bay, but of course there he was. Still standing in front of the locked lab door with his arms crossed over his chest. Well, this was one particular battle Leonard wasn't going to back down from. A few quick strides took him over towards the door of the lab, and he started punching in his access code without even looking at Adams. But of course, all hopes of this being easy went right out the window.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
"I need something from the medical supplies that were delivered this morning."  
  
"Sorry, Lieutenant Commander, but you know the orders. That transport crate is not to be opened until the Admiral's departure."  
  
Leonard felt his hand ball into a fist.  
  
"Were you here for the last hour, Commander? Did you see what's been happening? Because if you weren't, if you were standing there with your eyes closed thinking of Starfleet, then I'll gladly give you an update. We're under Klingon attack, and this Medical Bay took severe damage. Half of the medication we had stored out here is gone, including the medication the Lieutenant over there needs so that she doesn't suffocate within the next few hours." Leonard finished punching in the code, and the door slid open. Before Adams even had the chance to stop him, Leonard was in the lab and approaching the transport container.  
  
A hand fell heavily onto his shoulder and tried to hold him back, but Leonard reacted instinctively. Twisting out of the grasp he turned around in one smooth motion and pushed the Commander back with both hands against his chest.  
  
"Doctor, this is the last time I'm telling you, you're under orders not to open that container."  
  
"Listen, I'm done playing those chain of command games. I'm a doctor, not a soldier. I have a patient out there who will die if I don't get her the right medication, so I damn well will get her the medication. If you want to detain one of the three medical officers aboard this station while it's under attack, go ahead and knock yourself out! But that's on your head, just so we're clear about that. Otherwise, let me do my damn job."  
  
Leonard was surprised when there was no further resistance as he stepped up to the container. From the corner of his eye he saw Megan step up towards him, and he heard Adams' voice in the background but didn't care enough about him to pay attention to it. There was a control panel near the top of the container, and Leonard entered his personal code into the keypad.  
  
The crate with the virus had been loaded last, so it should be sitting right atop of the other supplies, the stasis capsules secured in a small airtight container with an additional locking mechanism. He only had to get that box out and secured away, then he could get Phrax' medication and get on with his work.  
  
The keypad lit up as he typed in his code, but when he was done it didn't release the container lid. Instead, all Leonard heard was a low beep, and a message flashed across the small screen that said _Invalid Code_.  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
He was sure he hadn't made a mistake typing in his code, but still Leonard tried the digits again, slower this time.  
  
Again, the keypad beeped and the screen flashed its message _Invalid Code_.  
  
"What's wrong?" Megan asked from behind him.  
  
"It's not accepting my code," Leonard said even as he typed it in a third time, with the same results. Megan brushed past him, shoving him away from the keypad.  
  
"Here, let me try. Maybe they didn't register your clearance for the medical transport because you're not a regular member of the station's staff."  
  
She typed in her own code, but Leonard's hope that this was the simple explanation for their problem was short-lived. Just like for him, the mechanism beeped in denial and flashed its message as Megan typed in her personal code. Not on the first try, and neither on the second or on the third.  
  
"What the hell is going on here?"  
  
Megan looked up at him with a shrug. "I have no idea. We never had any trouble with the medical deliveries before. And we were assured that both of us were cleared to handle the live sample of the virus, so it can't be that we simply don't hold the right rank to open this container."  
  
"I believe you were under orders not to try and open the container, Doctors."  
  
Leonard spun around as Admiral Marlow's voice sounded through the lab. Of course, that explained who Adams had been talking to earlier. The Admiral looked harried, and there was a clear look of outrage on his face as he approached Megan and Leonard, his two lackeys in tow.  
  
"Admiral, we need medication from that delivery. And I'm pretty sure Captain Bartlett has other things to do than to override your previous order under Starfleet regulation 2-24…"  
  
"Don't bother quoting the rulebook at me, Lieutenant Commander McCoy. I'm very well aware of the regulation you're referring to. Unfortunately, even if you were to involve him and he'd force me to open this container, it wouldn't help you. So step away from the container now, before Commander Adams has to force you."  
  
"Wouldn't help…" Leonard took a step forward, anger pounding through him as his heartbeat sped up. "I have people out there who are injured, some of them severely. One Lieutenant is going to die within hours if I don't give her the right medication, medication which arrived with this morning's damn delivery, so don't you dare tell me what the hell is of use to me and what isn't. I need that medication now, and you are going to open this container and give it to me, is that understood?"  
  
Marlow cocked his head to the side. "Perfectly. The only problem is that you're operating under a completely false assumption here, Doctor McCoy."  
  
"Oh, and what assumption would that be?"  
  
"That there are medical supplies in that container."  
  
For a second, silence settled over the lab while Leonard tried to recover from this proverbial blow to the gut.  
  
"What?"  
  
"There are no medical supplies in that container," Marlow repeated unnecessarily. "The containers were switched during the loading process on Braga IV."  
  
Red was creeping into the edge of Leonard's vision as he contemplated the possible consequences of that. All those security measures had been in vain, the wrong container had been supervised for the entire time, and if what Marlow said was true, they didn't have medication they urgently needed in Medical Bay.  
  
And he had no clue where the samples of the virus were right now.  
  
"And where is the container with the medical supplies?"  
  
"It should be in the cargo hold with the rest of the supplies that arrived with the transport this morning."  
  
In the cargo hold. Where things got unloaded, stored, moved from here to there and back again, where some things were unpacked while others weren't, where the staff wasn't exactly tender in its treatment of the stored goods, and where nobody had given a damn about securing the container properly because nobody had known what was in it.  
  
Damn...For a few seconds, the lab fell absolutely silent, and only when the distant roar of impacting weapon fire tore through the stillness did Leonard find his voice again.  
  
"What?"  
  
His voice was sharp, more a growl than an actual word, but if Marlow was in any way bothered by it, he didn't let it on.  
  
"You heard me, Doctor."  
  
"Are you out of your damn mind?"  
  
Marlow took a quick step forward, and Leonard distantly thought that the gesture was supposed to be threatening, but he didn't give a damn right now.  
  
"Careful, Lieutenant Commander. I do not have to justify my decisions in front of you, so you'd better watch out that you're not adding more insubordination to your list of today's achievements than you already have."  
  
Leonard drew a breath to reply, but Megan cut him off before he could say anything else.  
  
"But why were the containers switched without notifying either of us? That goes against protocol, Admiral."  
  
"Everything I did was well within my rights to do, Doctor Parker."  
  
"Oh, cut the crap, Admiral." Marlow looked scandalized, but Leonard continued as if he hadn't noticed. "If you exchange a container with biohazard material and medication for something else, it's more than just common courtesy to tell the responsible medical officers about it, and if you insist on me quoting the appropriate regulation to you, I will. And no matter if you _think_ you were well within your rights or not, you'd better hope that your little switch of containers has nothing to do with the Klingon attack we're under right now. So what is in that damn container?"  
  
Marlow crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't have the clearance…"  
  
Leonard shook his head and turned towards Megan. "Call Ops, have Captain Bartlett come down here immediately."  
  
Megan's eyes widened, but after a second of hesitation she took a step towards the nearest comm console.  
  
"Belay that order, Doctor. Captain Bartlett has better things to do right now than worry about this."  
  
"Then tell me what's in the damn container and we don't need to bother him. I need to know what is in there because I have patients out there who need urgent care, and I need to know exactly what is being stored in my Medical Bay, whether I can use it to help them or if I have to protect them from it. So you better start talking."  
  
Marlow drew a deep breath and released it, stewing silently for a few moments. It was obvious that he was angry, and considered not saying anything just for the sake of his authority, but Leonard held the Admiral's gaze and didn't back down. They weren't going to leave this laboratory until he knew everything he wanted to.  
  
After a few silent moments, Marlow inclined his head to the side with an exhale. It was interesting how he tried to turn an admission that was pretty much forced out of him to seem like a voluntary briefing, but Leonard was beyond caring about the circumstances. He just wanted some damn answers, and quickly at that.  
  
"The container holds a shipment of latinum."  
  
Leonard should have known. He really should have known that in the end, it always came down to something like this. And of course it was latinum. The liquid metal had become the _thing_ in the Federation over the past years, just as if ordinary credits suddenly weren't fashionable enough anymore, and sometimes Leonard thought certain parts of the Admiralty would want to drink the stuff if only they could.  
  
"Liquid?"  
  
Marlow shook his head. "Gold-pressed."  
  
Of course. "How many bars?"  
  
There was a moment's hesitation, then Marlow sighed as if it was all too late, anyway. "Ten thousand bars."  
  
Well, _fuck_. That would explain why there were Klingons out there who were suddenly very interested in a space station they hadn't previously taken any notice of.  
  
Megan was watching their conversation with wide eyes, but all Leonard could think about was that this was yet another screw-up due to someone else's greed. He had a couple of bodies out there in Medical who could still be alive if Marlow had only been up-front about what the hell he was doing.  
  
"If this is an illegal shipment, I promise you that I'll personally see to it that you will lose your commission, Admiral."  
  
Marlow raised an eyebrow at Leonard – an absolute amateur move, and Leonard was in the position to be the judge of that, thank you very much – voice dripping with disdain. Well, if he wanted to blame Leonard for the revelation of his secret, that was a dose of antagonism Leonard could live with very well.  
  
"The shipment is entirely legal. It's the payment for deliveries that happened over the course of the past twelve months. Engine and construction parts, all kind of equipment needed for the establishment of the trading outpost."  
  
As if that explanation made any more sense.  
  
"Then why wasn't such a large shipment brought aboard a constitution class ship, or any other ship with the capabilities to defend it? The Ontario is going to come pick you up tomorrow morning, why not wait with the transport until then? Why all this cloak and dagger crap?"  
  
Marlow didn't answer, but as Leonard looked at the man something suddenly clicked, and a bottomless pit of rage opened up inside of him at the very same moment.  
  
"You _knew_ , didn't you? You knew it was possible that something about that transport had leaked, and that's why you decided to bring the latinum aboard the station instead of leaving it in the Bragan system. You exchanged no real defense against an attack planetside for what little defense this station can put up, because you _knew_ it was possible someone had learned about the latinum and was going to try and take it, isn't it so?"  
  
Again, Marlow didn't answer, but the silence was answer enough. Running a hand over his face, Leonard cursed a blue streak under his breath.  
  
"Just how stupid…how fucking damn…damn it Admiral, if you knew that news had leaked that there were ten thousand bars of gold pressed latinum in the system, why weren't you up front about it and at least told Captain Bartlett about it?"  
  
"There was no proof!" Marlow snapped, his face turning red. "All there was were rumors, definitely not enough to break the confidentiality of the transport. Only a few people knew about it, so it was just a precautionary measure…"  
  
"You really think you can keep something like this private? We're talking about ten thousand bars of latinum, and you really think nobody is going to talk about it for their own profit? Just how long have you been hiding behind your desk? This is an underdeveloped system, and there's always the chance that someone is underpaid and overworked enough to fall for the lure of quick and easy profit if they only pass along some information! That's how real life works, for crying out loud! The moment you only so much as _guessed_ that information had leaked about this transport, it was your duty to inform the station's CO about it. Captain Bartlett had no idea what you brought aboard this station, and look where it got us!"  
  
Megan had been shaking her head for the past minute or so, but now she interrupted.  
  
"Why bring the latinum to the Medical Bay in the first place? If you want to load it to the Ontario tomorrow morning anyway, why not keep it in the cargo hold with the rest of the supplies?"  
  
Leonard bit back a laugh. "Because the Medical Bay is the most secure place in the station. It's located right in its center. And it's shielded; it can't be penetrated by standard scans, Megan. It's a lot safer than the cargo hold if you want to hide that the latinum is aboard the station in the first place."  
  
"Just great," Megan hissed, but all further conversation was cut off by the squawk of the comm system. All the better. They had patients to look after, and Leonard needed to figure out a way to get Lieutenant Phrax her medication.  
  
"Ops to Medical," Bartlett's voice sounded. "We need medical assistance immediately."  
  
Leonard had already taken a step towards the door before the message even ended, but Megan put up a hand.  
  
"I'll go. You take care of things here, Leonard, okay?"  
  
She cast a glance at Marlow as she said the words, and Leonard understood. This whole mess was sending his own head into a spin, and he was actually used to dealing with Admirals and other dignitaries who turned out pompous assholes with no regards for common sense. Megan had never been in the midst of something like this before, and her previous dealings with the Admiralty consisted entirely of attempts to get her research funded. It was understandable that she was longing to handle something she was actually used to dealing with. He nodded at her.  
  
"Go. Take care."  
  
As Megan hurried out of the lab, Leonard hit the comm button.  
  
"Doctor Parker is on her way, Captain. And I know you probably have your hands full, but you might want to increase security in the cargo hold. Admiral Bartlett switched the transport containers before they were brought aboard. The crate with the medical supplies and the virus samples never made it to Medical."  
  
For a second, there was silence and Leonard wondered if the connection had been cut off. When Bartlett spoke again, his voice sounded strained.  
  
"Repeat that, Doctor McCoy. The virus is not in Medical?"  
  
"Correct. The sample of the virus is in a container in the cargo hold, not in Medical."  
  
What followed was a string of curses that would have made Leonard's grandfather proud. "You're sure?"  
  
"Positive. The Admiral confirmed it."  
  
"Damn. We don't have the men to spare, but I'll see what I can do. Bartlett out."  
  
Leonard hit the comm button that deactivated the connection and drew a deep breath. He was positively seething, and if there was any chance that letting some of that rage out on the Admiral was going to help the situation any, he wouldn't hesitate for a second to do so, Hippocratic oath be damned. Fortunately, Nurse Harper's voice tore him out of those musings before he could seriously consider the possibility.  
  
"Doctor, you're needed out here."  
  
Leonard cast a last scathing look at the Admiral.  
  
"You, get out of this lab. You can stay right in Medical and guard your precious cargo, but you stay out of my staff's way, and you will damn well do what I say for as long as this lasts. And in the meantime you better pray that nothing happens to that container with the virus."  
  
He didn't even wait for the Admiral's reply before he turned towards the door and left the lab. Nurse Harper was standing next to Lieutenant Phrax' biobed, tapping the display above it for more detailed readouts. It didn't take long for Leonard to see that Phrax' O2 saturation had gone down even further. Even without the readouts it was hard to miss; her skin had taken on a waxen tone, and her lips and fingers were taking on a bluish tinge.  
  
"Doctor," Harper said as he stepped up to the bed. "Her condition is deteriorating."  
  
And it would deteriorate even further because they didn't have the right medication to treat her. There were other meds aside from her hemoglobin supplementary, meds that would relieve her condition on the short term, but which Leonard normally wouldn't even consider giving her because of their side effects. Right now though, it didn't seem as if he had any other choice.  
  
There were still a few storage units that had gone undamaged by the earlier overload, cabinets on the other side of the room where they stored medications that weren't used on a daily basis. Leonard quickly rifled through the supplies they had left and for the first time that day, Leonard got lucky. He found a cartridge of the medication he was looking for and quickly loaded it into a hypospray, then he stepped up to Phrax' bed again.  
  
The young Lieutenant was barely conscious, but she turned her head into Leonard's direction as he carefully placed a hand on her shoulder. If he was already going to do this, he was going to do it with as much consent from her as he could get in her current condition.  
  
"Lieutenant?"  
  
Her eyes fluttered open just a little, barely enough for him to see her eyes.  
  
"Doc?"  
  
"Listen Phrax, you lost too much blood. Your oxygen levels are dropping. Normally I'd give you an early shot of your hemoglobin supplementary, but we can't get to that right now."  
  
"Other meds?"  
  
Phrax mouthed it more than really spoke it out, but Leonard understood. And as someone who had been struggling with that condition for all her life, Phrax knew about the alternatives.  
  
"We have those, but you know about the side effects."  
  
Phrax nodded weakly.  
  
"I've got to give you a shot right now because your oxygen saturation is dropping dangerously, but I need you to be aware of the side effects. I'll do my damned best to get you the right medication, but for now we'll have to make due. And it's not going to be comfortable."  
  
Another weak nod. "'know."  
  
It was all the consent he could expect from Phrax right now, Leonard knew that. So he pressed the hypospray against the Denobulan's neck and pressed the release. The medication was released into her bloodstream with a hiss, and Phrax' eyes fluttered close.  
  
"Keep monitoring her," Leonard told Nurse Harper. "Her saturation should go up within the next two minutes. Tell me if that's not the case."  
  
"Of course, Doctor."  
  
Leonard turned away form the bed. Phrax' condition would improve temporarily, but they could give her maybe two doses of the medication, three at the max, before she was going to show signs of overdosage. Most likely it would compromise her liver, too, and if they couldn't transfer her to undamaged facilities equipped to deal with a case like that, her outlook was not good. They needed to get her the right medication or get her the hell off this station, there was no other alternative.  
  
Checking the room, Leonard noticed that Valdez hadn't yet returned from the emergency call he had received earlier. He quickly went over towards the nearest comm unit.  
  
"McCoy to Valdez, what's your status?"  
  
It took a moment before the third doctor on duty aboard the station answered the hail.  
  
"Valdez here. Hawthorne took a pretty bad fall, Doctor. He'll need surgery soon, but for now I've got him stable enough to risk transporting him back to Medical. I'll be on my way in a few minutes."  
  
"Take as much time as you need to get him stabilized, we gotta push back any surgeries until this attack is over. But send Hawthorne back with the nurses, I need you to do something else."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Valdez' voice was sounding distant, and Leonard guessed that the young doctor had put his communicator down on the ground in order to have both hands free for treating to his patient.  
  
"You should be close to the cargo hold, is that right?"  
  
"Affirmative. I'm in Docking Bay 2, why?"  
  
Leonard didn't want to rehash the entire story, but he needed for Valdez to know what he was asking of him.  
  
"The transport containers got mixed up. All the medical supplies ended up in the cargo hold, and we need Phrax' hemoglobin supplementary."  
  
For a moment, there was silence. Valdez' voice, when he spoke again, was hesitant.  
  
"What about the virus samples?"  
  
"Those would be in the cargo hold, too. Listen, right now my main concern is the medication. If you think you can safely transport the container with the virus back as well, I'm not going to complain, but otherwise just make sure that it's secure and won't get knocked around from the impacts. Just get that hemoglobin supplementary to Medical, all right?"  
  
Leonard would only be able to breathe freely once he knew the container with the virus was stored securely in the lab, but he also knew that the container was going to be bulky and hard to carry. Valdez had the clearance to open it, but Leonard most certainly wasn't going to begrudge him if he didn't dare carry the single stasis capsules through the ship while they were under attack. They'd just have to think of another way to get the virus to Medical, and pray that nothing went wrong in the meantime.  
  
"Understood. I'll check back in once I'm in the cargo hold. Valdez out."  
  
Leonard stepped away from the console. He would have preferred going to get the medication and the virus himself, but with only three doctors serving on the station and two of them attending to emergencies outside of Medical, he couldn't leave. Not unless a serious emergency asked for his presence.  
  
The inflow of patients had slowed somewhat over the past half hour, a treacherous sign that things might be getting better. The weapon impacts had become fewer and farther in between as well, but Leonard had the sneaking suspicion that this was a tactical move rather than a sign that the Klingons were giving up. From all Leonard knew about Klingons, giving up wasn't exactly part of their vocabulary.  
  
There was nothing left for Leonard to do but make his rounds and see to it that the patients under his care were as stable as they could be for now. He was quickly running out of nurses, though. Nurse Harper was up on her feet again after the explosion, but despite the run with the Osteo-regenerator she still favored her right arm and it was obvious that the formerly broken collarbone was still giving her trouble. And Nurse Guitierrez was awake again, but he was definitely concussed and the dermal regeneration on his face wasn't yet finished, so he wasn't of much use in taking care of the patients. All the other qualified nurses were out there with Megan and Valdez, leaving Leonard with a handful of medical ensigns who were only useful to a certain degree.  
  
At least Phrax was doing marginally better, and all other patients were stable for now. There were three Leonard wanted to see in surgery sooner rather than later, and if this attack lasted for much longer, there were another few patients whose condition wasn't going to remain as stable as it was now.  
  
Leonard had gotten used to the distant sounds of the attack in the background, and he was so used to tuning out all other sounds in order to be able to focus on the task at hand that he couldn't quite suppress a flinch as a new and shrill alarm started to sound. Beside him, Harper dropped the tricorder as the computer's voice calmly announced the intruder alert. Captain Bartlett's voice rang out a second later.  
  
"Attention all crew, we've been boarded. All available Security to D- and E-Deck. Secure all stations."  
  
Oh, damn it all to hell.  
  
Enterprise had never been boarded, not counting non-corporeal entities that had taken over certain crewmember's bodies, and Leonard wasn't going to think back to that particular instance right now. But despite that fact, Leonard reacted almost automatically. He had to, because if he allowed panic to spread, things were going to go to hell in a handbasket pretty damn soon. He hurried over to the doors and hit the locking mechanism. The doors had been opening upon his approach, but now they slid shut and locked with an audible click. Nothing that would stop a Klingon for long, but at least it was something.  
  
"All right everybody," he called to the room at large. "You heard the Captain. The Klingons have boarded the station, but there's no reason to believe that Medical is high on their list of priorities right now." He'd have to tell Nurse Harper the truth about the latinum, and Valdez once he got back, but he most certainly wasn't going to reveal that what the Klingons wanted was right here in the lab. There were some things his patients were better off not knowing.  
  
"So we're going to do just what the Captain ordered and secure this station. If we have reason to believe that the Klingons are about to force their way in, we can completely shut down Medical and put it on biohazard lockdown. So right now we're probably in the safest place of the entire station. So I need everyone to stay calm and do their jobs. All medical ensigns will be doing rounds. Split up the patients amongst you and check on them in regular intervals. Anything out of the ordinary, you report to Nurse Harper or me. Harper, if you can manage, we need to do an inventory on the medications. If we start running low on something we need to know now so that we can make what we have last."  
  
Harper nodded at him, and Leonard turned back to the Admiral and his two men. "You help out wherever you're needed. If someone tells you to hold something or to fetch something, you'll do it. Most of the medical staff is spread through the station, and we need all the hands we can get. Go over and ask Nurse Harper what you can do."  
  
Leonard was surprised but also a little relieved when Commander Adams and Lieutenant Hanson immediately followed his orders and went over towards where Nurse Harper was trying to salvage whatever she could from the broken medicine cabinets. Admiral Marlow wasn't moving, but then again Leonard hadn't really expected him to. As long as he didn't get into the way, Leonard didn't care. Right now he needed to give everyone a job that was going to keep them busy.  
  
"McCoy to Valdez." The line remained silent. "Valdez, come in."  
  
Again, only silence greeted him, and Leonard quickly hit another button on the comm console. Standard protocols might interfere with the ship wide communications during an intruder alert, but the personal communicators every doctor carried should be unaffected.  
  
"McCoy to Parker."  
  
"Parker here."  
  
For a second, Leonard allowed himself to feel relieved to hear Megan's voice, then he forced himself back into professionalism.  
  
"We've locked down Medical. What's the status of your patient?"  
  
"Head trauma, but his condition isn't critical."  
  
"You're good to stay put on the Bridge with him?"  
  
"I was going to transport him back, but I guess that's not going to happen for a while. How are things in Medical?"  
  
"We got it under control. Valdez' team is still on their way back, and he's not answering his comm, though. I'll let you know if anything changes."  
  
"You do that. Parker out."  
  
So handheld communicators worked. And at least Megan was safe for now. It relieved Leonard, but it made him even more worried for Valdez and everyone else who was still out there.  
  
From the corner of his eyes Leonard noticed the young ensign who had brought Lieutenant Phrax to Medical earlier hover near the door uncertainly. It was hard to tell if the man was injured. His uniform was smeared with blood, but that could as well be Phrax'.  
  
"You all right, Ensign…?"  
  
The young man seemed confused for a moment, as if he hadn't expected anyone to talk to him.  
  
"Wilcox, Sir." He finally finished Leonard's question. "Ensign Albert Wilcox."  
  
"Are you hurt? Did someone check you over when you got here?"  
  
"Me? No, I…I'm all right, Sir. Commander Tuval told me to stay with Lieutenant Phrax, and…"  
  
He shrugged helplessly, but Leonard didn't need to hear more to understand. The kid looked young enough to be barely out of school. Probably this was his first posting ever, not to mention the very first time that he encountered any kind of crisis situation outside of simulations before. It wasn't the first time Leonard saw it happen, and he didn't blame the kid. Unless his looks were very much deceiving and he was actually a few years older, he was another of those whiz kids who were pushed to a post without sufficient training.  
  
"You know your way around the computer system of the station, Ensign?"  
  
The young man's eyes lit up. "Yes, Sir. I excelled in computer engineering, and Commander Tuval put me in charge of…"  
  
Leonard raised a hand to stop the flow of words. "All right, all right. Good. Do you think you can rig the locking mechanism of the door so that the door controls can't be accessed from the outside, but we can still open them from in here?"  
  
Wilcox' eyes darted to and fro for a second, as if he was going through some mental manual, then he nodded.  
  
"Of course. I can divert primary control to the panel on the inside of the door, and put a block in the controls on the outside so that the door won't open even if the panel outside is used. And if the computer system isn't damaged, I can use that to add a few more subroutines to circumvent the outside panel, that should make it harder to override the blocks."  
  
Thanks to serving amongst a crew who were all geniuses with a tendency to over-share, Leonard had years of training in ignoring all the technical babble and focusing on just the message within.  
  
"And we can still open the door anytime we need to?"  
  
"From inside the Medical Bay, yes."  
  
"Good. Get to work, Ensign."  
  
The young man immediately and eagerly hurried over towards the door console, and Leonard took a second to look around the Medical Bay. Nurse Harper was still busy sorting through the debris and remains of the earlier explosion, Admiral Marlow was nowhere to be seen, and from what he could tell at a cursory glance all of the patients were if not in a good condition, then at least stable for now. But that didn't change the main problem.  
  
Phrax still needed her real medication, sooner rather than later. That alone was problem enough. But the even bigger problem, the one problem that was so fucking huge that Leonard didn't even want to think about it, was that thanks to Admiral Marlow, the samples of the living virus were in the cargo hold. And now there were Klingons aboard the station who were searching for a shipment of latinum. And where would one start searching for a shipment of latinum that was big enough to be transported like cargo? Well, Leonard was no expert, but if he had a ridged head-plate, filed teeth and a never-ending blood thirst, he might start looking for it in the damn cargo hold.  
  
If that virus was set free – and Leonard had no doubt that the container's coded lock wouldn't prove to be an obstacle for a Klingon out for bounty, if anything it practically screamed hey! Look here! – it would spread through the airing system in a matter of minutes. The entire station was going to get infected, and the only antiviral they had was an experimental one that might or might not work.  
  
There was no choice about it, really.  
  
Leonard surveyed the odd assembly of people in the Medical Bay with a sinking feeling in his chest. Fifteen patients, three of them in critical condition and another four headed straight that way if they weren't transported to a facility with better equipment soon. Two nurses, both of them injured as well, though not as severely as the other patients, and a young ensign who had just happened to be in Medical at the wrong time and was scared out of his wits by everything that had happened during the past hours.  
  
Oh, and of course there was Admiral Marlow and his two personal officers. He couldn't forget about them, because his day wouldn't be the absolute shitfest it had turned into if it weren't for the damn Admiral to begin with.  
  
None of his patients was in any condition to sit up, much less walk, and he needed his nurses to look after them. The young ensign – what was his name? Wilkes? Wilkins? Something like that – was putting up a brave front, but Leonard knew that he wouldn't be able to hold that up if he went out there, and the Admiral…well, he was an Admiral. One of the worst kind, of course, because it was just Leonard's luck to be stuck with a pompous asshole who had given orders from behind the safety of his desk for the past twenty years and probably no longer remembered how to hold a phaser the right way around.  
  
Of course there were the two officers, but Leonard didn't trust them to get the job done, and he'd rather live to see another day, thank you very much. Besides, neither of them had the medical clearance to even open the container with the virus.  
  
Which left exactly one person – him.  
  
Just great. Just fucking awesome.


	8. Coda - The Other Side of the Coin I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a second side to every story. Everytime someone leaves, there's someone else who's left behind. Someone who also has a story to tell. This is Jim's story.
> 
> This is the first of three interludes from Jim's perspective. These interludes will be posted where they chronologically fit into the story, but they are not part of the main storyline as such.

**_Stardate 2261.204 (July 22nd, 2261) – 13:15 hours_**  
  
"Captain's Log, Supplemental. We've nearly finished mapping section beta II of Asteroid Field X2C. Stellar Cartography reports rapid progress transferring the findings into the computer system, and they are confident that if work progresses at the current rate, a complete map of the asteroid field will be available in the Starfleet database within the allotted timeframe. Personally, I'll be glad if we're finally flying at more than a quarter impulse all day long. I don't envy the guys and gals down in Stellar Cartography their shining moment, but damn it, this is probably the most boring stretch of space mankind ever visited, and I won't shed a tear once we're finally shining our taillights on it."  
  
Jim sighed and rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Computer, erase the last two sentences and save the entry. Start new recording. Captain's Personal Log."  
  
A soft chime from the computer announced that the order had been completed and the computer was ready for the next recording.  
  
"Day Fifty-two. Fifty-two days out of ninety, which means more than half of the three months are over. Which…yeah. Awesome, I guess, if it weren't another thirty-eight days until he gets back. God, how did we ever think that three months was nothing? _It'll be over before you know it, absence makes the heart grow fonder_ – right. That's all crap, and if anybody dares to throw another of those platitudes at me, they won't know what hit them. Three months is definitely too long. If Starfleet only so much as suggests extending Bones' assignment, I'm going to fly all the way to San Francisco at maximum warp and show them in just where to shove that suggestion. In graphic detail."  
  
Jim drew a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger. He hadn't slept well last night – truth be told, he hadn't slept well for the past fifty-one nights – but he still had another two hours to go on his shift.  
  
"Bones told me they're going to start working with the living virus today. And I know he's good. Hell, Starfleet wouldn't have requested him for this job if he wasn't the best. I just…sometimes I think it would have been easier if he wasn't. Easier on my nerves, at least, because then he'd still be here. And on my crew. I know I've been going on their nerves during the first weeks; it doesn't take a genius to read those looks. But I think I've been keeping it together this past week or two. I just need to find a way to keep myself occupied. And movie night is a huge hit with the crew, so it's not as if everything I've done over the past weeks was bad."  
  
He drew breath to say something else, but the comm interrupted him.  
  
"Captain to the Bridge."  
  
Jim leaned back in his chair with a sigh.  
  
"I'm on my way. Computer, end recording."  
  
As usual there was no way to judge what was going on by the tone of Uhura's voice, but Jim knew better than to risk tardiness. And not only because he was taking his responsibilities as a Captain seriously, but also because he knew that Uhura had been a bit…annoyed at him for a while after Bones left. So it was best not to keep her waiting and give her any more ammunition. He got up from behind his desk and left his ready room towards the main body of the Bridge. Spock had been sitting in the Captain's chair, but he got up immediately as the doors swished open.  
  
"Please don't tell me something actually interesting happened while I was gone." Jim said with a smile, then cast a fake-rueful shrug at Spock. "No offence at all members of the Science Department."  
  
Spock didn't react, and again it was Uhura who answered.  
  
"We received an emergency transmission."  
  
Normally this was the moment when Jim allowed a small spark of excitement to flare – not excitement at the fact that other people were in danger, but at the thought of actually going out there and doing something, especially since they had been doing absolutely _nothing_ for the past weeks – but this time there was something else in Uhura's voice. For some reason, it caused a very bad feeling to settle in his gut.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Uhura swallowed and cast her eyes to the side – to Spock, Jim noticed – once before she answered.  
  
"It's an emergency transmission from Starfleet Outpost Braga IV."  
  
And just like that, the universe stopped. Just for a moment, barely a second, really, but Jim swore everything around him stopped for a moment, as if trying to make sure he had the time to grasp the message and understood its full extend.  
  
Starfleet Outpost Braga IV.  
  
Bones.  
  
That goddamn virus.  
  
Jim's blood ran cold, and suddenly he found it hard to breathe.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
That clear, detached voice wasn't his own, even if his lips were moving as the words were spoken. But he couldn't be speaking because Jim was sure he wasn't even breathing right now.  
  
"Apparently they're under Klingon attack."  
  
"Hail them."  
  
"I tried." Uhura sounded apologetic. "They're not responding."  
  
Something tightened the vise that had suddenly appeared around Jim's chest. "Put the distress call up on the screen, Lieutenant."  
  
Again, Uhura's voice sounded remorseful. "It's audio only."  
  
She pressed a few buttons on her console to route the emergency call to the speakers. Jim suppressed a flinch as the first sound he heard was the distant impact of weapon's fire.  
  
"This is Captain Bartlett from the Federation Outpost Braga IV. We're under attack by two Klingon Bird of Prey and require immediate assistance. All ships in the quadrant, we require immediate assistance. We're under attack from two Klingon Bird of Prey and taking damage."  
  
The sound of static that had been accompanying the message died down abruptly, leaving the Bridge in an eerie silence.  
  
"That's the entire message, Captain. It was sent out on all standard emergency frequencies, but by our sensor readings we're the only ship close enough to respond immediately."  
  
Jim felt the solid presence of his Captain's chair underneath him, though he had absolutely no memory of sitting down. Maybe he should tell Spock to check whether they were having an oxygen leak and the alarms were failing, because he had the feeling that there wasn't enough air in the room to breathe.  
  
 _Klingons_. Klingons were attacking the station where Bones was, and Jim was at least five hours away.  
  
"Lieutenant, plot a course out of the asteroid field. As soon as we're clear, set a course to the Braga IV outpost and go to maximum warp."  
  
"Aye, Sir." Sulu had started tapping his consoles before Jim had even finished speaking, and Jim felt ridiculously relieved that his crew seemed to understand immediately what had to be done. He didn't think he'd be capable of lengthy explanations, especially not now that the simple act of breathing required more conscious thought than it ever should.  
  
Bones couldn't…no. He just couldn't. Period. Jim couldn't think of that right now.  
  
"Bridge to Engineering."  
  
"Aye, Captain," Scotty's voice came a few seconds later. But not even the constantly cheerful tones of the Scotsman were really able to penetrate through the haze in Jim's mind.  
  
"We're responding to a distress signal. As soon as we go to warp, I want you to push the engines as far as you think you can without causing damage."  
  
There was a moment's hesitation. "Aye, I think I can get them up to 105 percent for a wee bit."  
  
"Get them to 110 if at all possible. I authorize you to draw energy from anything that isn't Medical or life support. Kirk out."  
  
Jim knew what was going to come next. He knew it, and he understood. But for some reason that Jim couldn't quite grasp yet, it was important to him that he was going to be the one to take the next step. He got up from his chair and turned towards the direction he had come from just a few minutes ago.  
  
"Commander, my ready room."  
  
He didn't need to look to know that Spock was following. He stopped halfway into the room, in front of his desk, and pressed his palms to the smooth surface in a feeble attempt to ground himself. The tension was building up in his shoulders, and his teeth were clenching tightly. Only when he heard the hiss of the door shutting behind Spock did he turn around. The Vulcan was standing a foot or so away from him, watching him with an expression on his face that seemed completely indifferent at first glance, but which Jim had learned to read as mild concern over the past years.  
  
"I know what you're going to say, Spock. And I'm not going to fight you on this one. I can't…I know I can't stay in command. Not when it's about Bones."  
  
Spock inclined his head to the side.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"So I'll relinquish command to you. You'll be acting Captain for as long as this rescue mission lasts."  
  
Spock regarded him for a few seconds, as if he was waiting for something else. When Jim didn't say anything immediately, he looked up.  
  
"Previous experience in conversations similar to this one have taught me that there is a condition attached to this arrangement."  
  
And damn it if that wasn't Vulcan for _I know you better than that, Jim_. At that moment the gentle hum of the ship around them changed with the jump to warp, and somehow that drove the reality of what was happening home even stronger than anything else.  
  
"I'm not going to stay behind, Spock. Bones is aboard that station, and once we get there I'm not going to stay behind on Enterprise. The first away team that boards the station, I'm on it."  
  
Spock drew breath to reply, but Jim shook his head.  
  
"I'm not going to go off on my own, and I'm not going to put Bones' welfare about that of the other people on that station. I know better than that, Spock. But I want to be _there_. It's my husband we're talking about. I'm not going to stay behind while he's in danger."  
  
It sounded more pleading than authoritative, but Jim wouldn't have cared if he had to outright beg his First Officer right now. But still, he was relying on the fact that if anybody understood why he had to be there, it was the Vulcan.  
  
Spock inclined his head in quiet acquiescence, and just like that the matter was over and done with.  
  
Jim ran a hand over his face. There were still a lot of things to take care of, things that needed to be done and considered, but it was so damn hard to hold on to just a single one of the thoughts that were racing through his head. All Jim was thinking was circling around and always back to Bones, to Bones being in danger, to a bunch of damn Klingons thinking they had any right to attack him. He could feel the rage rising, red and furious and unlimited until he could see with his own eyes that Bones was all right and unharmed, but he couldn't allow it to take over.  
  
"The virus," Jim finally croaked out. "Bones told me they were about to start working with the living samples of the virus. I…we need to update Medical on the correct procedures, establish the safety protocols that need to be considered in case the virus was set free."  
  
Spock nodded. "I will alert Doctor M'Benga to the situation. Our estimated travel time should give him enough time to get acquainted with the details on the virus. I'm sure he'll be able to judge which quarantine measures need to be taken in the worst case."  
  
"Good." Jim nodded absently. "Good."  
  
Jim ran a hand through his short hair, chasing another of those elusive thoughts that seemed important, but that he couldn't quite get a hold of.  
  
"Captain…Jim."  
  
Jim looked up, admonishment about the fact that he no longer was the Captain already on his lips before Spock corrected himself.  
  
"If I may make a suggestion, Jim. We're still over five hours away from the Bragan system. It would be advisable if you tried to get some rest before our arrival."  
  
And even though Jim knew that Spock was right, he also knew that he wasn't going to get any rest until he knew that Bones was all right and unharmed. Besides, it felt too much like being sent away, and right now Jim couldn't take that.  
  
"What are the odds?"  
  
One eyebrow rose, and Jim had to look away. The gesture reminded him too much of Bones, and right now that was too painful.  
  
"The odds of what, Jim?"  
  
"That this is a random attack. That outpost has been there for decades, and the Klingons never attacked. And nothing changed. So why should they attack now? Is there any rational, any logical reason for them to do so?"  
  
Spock thought for a moment, and Jim could see how he processed the question and evaluated his answers.  
  
"It seems unlikely, Jim. Klingons aren't known for randomness. If it were a territorial dispute, they would have struck a long time ago. And the Bragan system is far enough into the Neutral Zone that it would not make any logical sense for the Klingons to claim this territory as their own now."  
  
"They're after something. If they dare launch an attack like this, it means they're after something."  
  
Spock nodded. "You're assuming they're after the virus."  
  
Jim shrugged, feeling helpless and clueless and liking neither feeling. "I don't know what the hell they're after. That the virus was brought aboard the station a day before the Klingons launch this attack, that doesn't sound like coincidence to me. But to be honest? I have no idea what the hell is going on."  
  
Spock looked at Jim for a long moment. "I will make sure that all possible precautionary protocols are implemented, Jim. But until we are able to obtain more information about the attack and the situation on the station, there is not much we can do other than prepare for all eventualities."  
  
It made sense, but that didn't mean Jim had to like it. Actually there was nothing he hated more than to fly blindly into a situation he knew nothing about. Well, nothing but the fact that his husband was in danger and he was too far away to do anything about it.  
  
Not a damn thing.  
  
"I'll be in my quarters in case there's any news."  
  
Spock inclined his head once more. "I will let you know immediately if there's new information."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
The way to his quarters was going to become hard, though. Jim was going to have to cross the Bridge, and his crew was clever enough to guess what this conversation between him and Spock had been all about. There was no shame in giving up command in a situation like this, but still it was a decision Jim inwardly fought against with every fiber of his being. It was a struggle, but Jim drew a deep breath and forced his face into as neutral a mask as he could manage before he stepped out of his ready room, Spock at his heels.  
  
Just as he had expected, all eyes were turning towards him as he stepped on the Bridge again.  
  
"Make note in the official log that I'm stepping down as Captain and relinquish command to Commander Spock."  
  
He didn't look at anybody as he turned towards the turbolift after that announcement. He knew nobody was going to hold this decision against him. In fact, most members of the Bridge crew had probably expected him to do just that. But he didn't want to see the understanding and sympathy in their gazes. The thought alone felt too much like giving up on Bones already, or admitting another possibility but the one that Bones was alive and well.  
  
And only when the doors of the lift hissed shut behind him did he give up the iron control over his face. He closed his eyes with a small sigh and leaned his head back against the cool paneling of the lift.  
  
Waiting. That was all he had left to do now. He had to wait for news, and he was going to have to wait alone. Of course he could have stayed on the Bridge, but that would have simply driven home the message that he was no longer in charge, that he couldn't actively do anything at all with every second that he stayed. But as he got off the lift, walked down the short corridor and stepped through the doors of his quarters, he asked himself if staying here had been the right choice.  
  
 _Their_ quarters. Not _his_. they hadn't been his alone for nearly two years now. And just a single look around the room made Jim want to turn around and run, somewhere, just anywhere else but here. Jim had thought that living in those quarters while Bones was light years away had been bad, but this was so much worse. Before, it had been loneliness with a definite end in sight, and Jim had been more than just looking forward to the reunion, but now Bones was in danger and all bets were off.  
  
There was, even if Jim didn't want to admit it to himself, the possibility that Bones was never going to be back here, in these rooms, and that thought only added to his inner turmoil. Right now, Jim felt empty, numb and afraid. More afraid than he was willing to admit.  
  
He didn't know how he ended up sitting on the foot end of the bed, but the mattress was dipping beneath his weight and his hand automatically went out to run over the blanket to his left. Bones' side of the bed, which had been empty for the past six weeks, but Jim thought he could still smell his husband. Not on the sheets, those had been changed more than once during the past weeks, and also not on the t-shirt he had pulled out of Bones' laundry which he had worn one too many times at night. But Bones' pillow still smelled like him if Jim only buried his face in it and drew a deep breath.  
  
Right now, though, he couldn't. Jim knew that he was holding on to his composure by a thin thread. In fact he didn't really know what was still keeping him upright. What was the appropriate response to a situation like this? Jim normally wasn't the one who was left behind while Bones was in danger, and if that was what his husband was going through every time Jim went off the ship, then he couldn't explain how Bones managed this. But somehow he did, because while he always grumbled and complained, Bones never broke down under the strain.  
  
Bones never did, but Jim already felt stretched so taut that he was going to snap any moment now.  
  
Maybe it had been the absolutely wrong choice to come back here, where every damn little thing reminded him of Bones.  
  
For a few moments, Jim allowed himself the luxury of burying his face in his hands, allowed all the tension to fall away even if that meant there was nothing left to hold the fear at bay. It didn't help, though. Of course it didn't help, because there was no warm hand settling on the tense muscles of his neck to squeeze gently, the mattress didn't dip with the weight of another body settling beside him, there was no arm wrapping around him, pulling Jim against a solid chest. And he wouldn't feel better until he had all that back.  
  
With an exhale of breath that was more shaky than determined, Jim finally raised his head again and got up from the bed. He needed to do something, otherwise he was going to drive himself mad before they were anywhere close to the Bragan system. And if he couldn't do anything officially, he could at the very least try to figure out why the hell those damn Klingons had decided to attack the station right now of all times.  
  
And the only unusual occurrence Jim could think of, other than the fact that the virus was aboard the station, was the Admiral Bones had mentioned during their last conversation. If there was even the slightest chance the man had something to do with the Klingon attack, Jim was going to find out.  
  
Sitting down on his desk chair, he pushed the button on his comm console. Spock had probably contacted Starfleet by now, but Jim didn't particularly care if he caught them by surprise or not. He needed answers.  
  
"Uhura? I need you to get me Admiral Pike."  
  
Jim leaned back and waited for the connection to go through. Maybe Pike was going to have the answers Jim was looking for.


	9. (7.)

**Stardate 2261.204 (July 22nd, 2261) – 16:23 hours**  
  
The problem about maintenance shafts, Leonard mused, was that they were used to maintain other parts of the station. Nobody ever bothered to keep them as clean and well-maintained as the rest of the station. The lighting was bad, and occasionally a lighting unit wasn't working altogether, which just put the cherry on top of this absolute shitfest-sundae of a day, because if Leonard missed a corridor branching off from the main shaft, he was never going to end up in the cargo hold like he had planned to.  
  
Sometimes, all that separated the maintenance shaft Leonard was in from the corridor outside was the thin wall paneling. Wherever there was an access point to the maintenance system, a simple pressing of the right panel would open up the thin barrier between Leonard and a station filled with Klingons, and wouldn't that put an end to his involuntary heroics quickly. So aside from watching out that he kept count of the corridors branching off, he also needed to watch out not to make any suspicious sounds that could lead to his discovery.  
  
The station was still rocking occasionally with the impact of weapon's fire, and more than once Leonard heard the sound of heavy steps run past his hiding spot in the wall, though he was completely unable to tell whether it was friend or foe. He couldn't even tell anymore where exactly he was, but so far the schematics he had memorized seemed to be matching up. There was no end of the corridor where another should be branching off that would suggest he had missed an intersection or anything. So far, so good.  
  
He kept crawling through the maintenance shaft, following it around a bend to the right and then again another one only a couple of yards after that. After that the corridor stretched on in what appeared to be a straight line, but what Leonard remembered from the schematics was a slow curve to the left, following the gentle slope of the station's hull, a slope most corridors of the station shared in order to make the most of the space available.  
  
As Leonard approached the t-section at the end of the corridor, he mentally retraced his steps, recalling the schematics he had seen all too briefly to be entirely sure that he had really ended up in the right place.  
  
He was stalling, and he wasn't even lying to himself about it. He knew he had taken the right route, and he knew that behind that t-section lay the cargo hold, accessible immediately if he took the corridor neither to the right nor the left but opened the access panel that would allow him to go straight ahead.  
  
Right.  
  
Easy as that.  
  
He'd just push the panel, ignore the pneumatic hiss every Starfleet mechanism was required to make by some unwritten law a dim-witted engineer must have come up with once, and then he'd crawl into the cargo hold.  
  
Of course he also had to hope and pray that the Klingons were either deaf or dumb enough to ignore the opening of the panel, that nobody was going to see him crawl out of the maintenance shaft, that the container with the medical supplies was within easy reach, and that he'd be granted just enough undisturbed time to remove Phrax' medication and the samples of the virus so that he'd be able to crawl back into the maintenance shaft unnoticed.  
  
Right.  
  
It was so easy, Leonard could do it with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back. It wasn't even a challenge.  
  
Oh, damn it, Jim made the impossible possible on a regular basis, and the only answer he had ever been able to give Leonard as to the how and why had been "Sometimes, failure just isn't an option. And then I have to make it work somehow". And after putting up with the fallouts of this kind of foolery for as long as he had, Leonard thought he was entitled to draw some confidence from the same insane source.  
  
He couldn't fail. Because if he did, Lieutenant Phrax was going to die, or – in the even worse case – the virus was going to be set free and everybody aboard the station was going to be killed. Painfully.  
  
He couldn't fail, so he just had to make it work. It was as easy as that.  
  
Of course, he would feel a lot more confident with a weapon in his hand, but there was a reason why he had left the single phaser in Medical. The good of the many and all that. Besides, while Leonard could operate a phaser, he chose not to if at all avoidable.  
  
Which kind of made him a moron when facing a bunch of Klingons on the warpath, but that couldn't be changed now. Leonard drew a deep breath, listened for any sounds from behind the panel and, when there were none, pressed his palm against the release.  
  
The subsequent hiss as the locking mechanism disengaged and the panel slid open seemed so loud that it should by all rights have caused an echo. Leonard flinched back, his body moving away from the opening as he pressed against the cool wall of the maintenance shaft, his heart beating fast in his chest.  
  
Leonard didn't quite know what he expected. Guttural voices barking out harsh commands as soon as the panel opened, maybe. Immediate phaser fire. Or the sight of a head with heavily ridged forehead plates pushing into the opening, discovering him and ending his little mission before it even began.  
  
What he most certainly didn't expect was that absolutely nothing happened. Nothing. No steps, no voices, no weapon fire. Absolutely nothing.  
  
Leonard forced himself to breathe normally, an almost impossible feat, counting to ten in his head. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to repeat the process, just once or twice more to be absolutely sure, but he knew that he couldn't afford to waste any more time. The longer the panel stayed open, the bigger the chance that someone was going to notice it.  
  
He had often asked himself where Jim took the courage from when he once more leaped without looking, but right now he suddenly realized that courage had absolutely nothing to do with it. Not a damn thing. Instead, it had everything to do with the fact that while he felt nearly paralyzed with fear, what had to be done needed to be done, and there was nobody else around to do it. If that was what courage was, stepping up to do the job out of necessity before anything else; if courage was to simply ignore the gut-wrenching fear because there was no other choice, then Leonard did the most courageous thing of his entire life – he swallowed down his fear and doubts and crawled out of the maintenance shaft.  
  
The first thing he saw was a crate, placed nearly directly in front of the access panel. Leonard wanted to laugh – both in relief and at his own stupidity. As long as nobody had heard the hiss of the opening mechanism and decided to investigate, there was no chance they'd be able to see the open panel in the wall just by passing by. And while the crate stood close to the wall, there was plenty of space for him to squeeze through.  
  
Of course, one problem was that Leonard couldn't see far into the cargo hold, either. If there were Klingons around, he for sure didn't see them.  
  
Carefully, trying not to make any sounds, Leonard passed by the crate, inching farther and farther forward. He didn't have much time, but he needed to find out where the crate with the medical supplies was before he decided on a plan.  
  
What slowly revealed itself to Leonard was far more chaotic than he had expected. Not that he spent much time in the cargo hold under normal circumstances, but he was absolutely positive that it was never this messy around here. And it weren't the results of the firefight, at least not exclusively. A couple of feet away from the container he had emerged behind, two more of the large transport crates stood, their tops broken open and what looked like a month's supply of random engineering parts strewn around it.  
  
If Leonard carefully inched around the corner of his hiding place, he should be able to see the big loading doors leading into the adjacent docking bay, as well as the far corner beyond these doors. Not the entire room, bat at least enough to get a first impression.  
  
" _RoQ pa'_!"  
  
Leonard flinched back, nearly stumbling over his own feet as his brain screamed for backwards movement while his feet were still in the process of inching forward. His fingers slid over the smooth surface of the container in desperate search for purchase, and all consideration for stealth was forgotten as his feet desperately struggled to keep up with his brain's mixed messages.  
  
Eventually he found his balance again, pressed flat against the side of the container and his heart beating so wildly in his chest that he was sure everyone in the damn quadrant had to hear it.  
  
Again, the fear of discovery threatened to nearly paralyze him, but as five seconds passed, then ten, and nobody had come and discovered him, Leonard's feet started to propel him forward again. If his brain had any objections, they went unheard.  
  
Slowly, almost literally inch by inch, he crept around the container, eyes roaming through the parts of the room that were revealed to him with every step forward. Another few inches, then a careful peek around the corner of the container he was hiding behind and he could see the wall to his left.  
  
The loading doors connecting the cargo hold to the docking bay were closed and looked undamaged, but the bulkhead beside them, designed for quick access between the two large rooms, was blasted open, the metal on both sides of it singed, blackened and melted.  
  
So that was where the Klingons had come from.  
  
Another couple of inches.  
  
There were still voices arguing in the guttural language Leonard didn't understand, but he was unable to say if it were two speakers or even more.  
  
Another few inches.  
  
Another corner Leonard very slowly, very carefully peeked around.  
  
More containers, maybe a dozen of them or so, were standing right in the middle of the cargo hold. And three Klingons were standing right beside them.  
  
Damn it.  
  
The Klingons were standing on the other side of the containers; if they were only standing a few feet more to the side, the island of cargo in the middle of the room would shield Leonard from their view entirely. But they didn't, they stood right in Leonard's line of sight, and they were arguing. Or maybe just conferring, for Leonard it was always hard to tell when exactly a Klingon was talking angrily and when not.  
  
The bulk of the containers would provide ample cover from them once he reached it, but even though it were just a few yards he had to sprint to get behind them, it were a few yards without any cover at all. Right in the Klingons' line of sight.  
  
A few yards too much. As long as those three stood facing each other, Leonard didn't stand a chance to reach the containers. Then something else caught his eye, something on the other side of the room, behind the crates Leonard had been contemplating – a crate with hypospray vials.  
  
It was standing on the other side of the room, nearly hidden from view from his position by the crates the Klingons were arguing about, but there was no mistaking the color of those vials, that exact shade of brownish red (a vaccine against Bajoran liver worms Megan was waiting for), or the red imprint on the lower half of the box that marked it as medical supplies.  
  
Which meant the Klingons had forcefully opened the crate with the Medical supplies.  
  
Damn.  
  
If the stasis capsules containing the virus had been damaged, they were all dead men walking without even knowing about it yet.  
  
Damn it.  
  
The Klingons were still arguing and as Leonard watched, one of them shifted towards the side. Leonard immediately ducked back, but still he saw clearly that the Klingon had held something in his hands. He hadn't been able to see it clearly, but it looked like some sort of relay to him. The voices fell silent, and then with a snarl the Klingon marched over towards the wall where Leonard assumed the medical supplies to be.  
  
The other two Klingons remained where they were, but the taller one started to gesture wildly, rapid harsh syllables providing a short and exasperated hand movements – first towards the opposite wall, then to a heap of randomly tossed things behind the two marauders.  
  
Leonard didn't possess Uhura's sensitive ears or any of her knowledge of the Klingon language, but he didn't need that to understand what this was about. They were separating the bounty into two piles. The things the Klingons deemed useful were stacked against the wall where Leonard had seen the hypospray vials, everything else went into the random pile behind them.  
  
As Leonard watched, the third Klingon reappeared and the gesticulating one – their leader, or so Leonard assumed – started pointing around, barking out orders. The other two followed without further protest, turning away from Leonard as together they started to break open the next transport crate.  
  
Their next target lay exactly on the opposite side of the bulk of crates in the middle of the room. As soon as the Klingons were out of sight and all that remained as proof of their continued presence were the dull thuds of brutal hits against the locked crate, Leonard started moving. It was as if his feet didn't want to give his brain a chance to even form a protest. Before he could think about it, Leonard was leaving cover and crossing the empty space between his old hiding place and the crates in the middle of the room.  
  
He didn't full out run, afraid to give himself away by heavy footfall, even if the Klingons were still hammering away in an attempt to open the crate. Leonard couldn't even breathe, all he could say for sure was that his heart was beating a mile a minute as he reached the treacherous cover of the closely spaced crates that were all that separated him from three Klingons who wouldn't think twice about killing him.  
  
And he had no delusions about the number of Klingon warriors aboard the station. Distantly, he was aware that at any second, others could enter the cargo hold, and if they came in from behind him, he'd be spotted immediately.  
  
 _Focus, damn it!_  
  
He needed to focus on the task at hand if he wanted to survive this. And he needed to survive this so that Phrax didn't die.  
  
While on the one side of the crates the Klingons were still busy trying to break one open, Leonard inched along the opposite side. The more he progressed, the more he could see just how much loot the Klingons had already accumulated. Boxes upon boxes were stacked against the wall, small transport units of completely random sizes that formed a strange sort of pyramid along one side of the room. In any other situation, Leonard might have been curious to know what a Klingon deemed worth stealing, yet right now he only had eyes for the various boxes containing medical equipment.  
  
The Klingons hadn't been too careful in stacking the boxes; there was a gap of about four feet between the loot and the wall. A hiding place, at least in those places where the boxes and containers were stacked high enough to hide a grown man.  
  
The dull thudding blows that had provided the background noise for the past minute or two suddenly ended in a resounding crash of braking insulation and paneling, and with a quick glance that the coast was still clear Leonard sprinted over towards the wall as fast as he dared. He didn't look, and he half-expected his discovery to be announced by a loud shout at any second, but all the he heard was the sound of the Klingons searching through their loot and the rapid beating of his own heart.  
  
As soon as he reached the cover of the stacked goods deemed worth stealing, Leonard crouched down and out of view.  
  
Medical supplies. His eyes immediately began to scan the boxes and containers, searching the labels of every box that was marked as medical supplies for Phrax' medication. Painkillers, vaccines, antibiotics, there! The hemoglobin supplementary. Leonard crept forward, eyes fixed on the box as if it might vanish if he stopped looking for just a second. It was standing nearly on top of a stack of medical supplies, with only one other box standing atop of it.  
  
Carefully, Leonard peered over the top of his hiding place.  
  
He was well within the line of sight of the Klingons again, even though they had their backs turned towards him at the moment. Judged by the size of the pile of discarded goods behind them, whatever was in the container they had just broken open wasn't anything they thought they could use.  
  
Leonard didn't dare to lift the box standing atop of the medication he needed. One of the Klingons only needed to turn slightly and they would immediately see the movement. But the small containers holding hypospray cartridges were always partially open on top to allow easy and quick access to the medication. He only needed to push the box standing on top a bit forward, then he'd have access to three or maybe four cartridges of Phrax' medication. More than enough.  
  
He needed one hand to keep himself balanced in his crouched position, but he placed the other one against the top box and gently started pushing. Not too strongly, because nothing said " _I'm here, come over and kill me_ " than a box falling over in a corner where nobody was supposed to be. But he pressed strong enough that it should cause movement. Or so Leonard hoped. And it did. After a heart-stopping second during which nothing moved, he felt the box shift under the constant pressure of his fingers.  
  
Slowly, fragment of an inch by fragment of an inch, Leonard moved the obstructing box out of the way.  
  
Just a little bit more…  
  
There was the sound of boots echoing heavily on the floor, and without thought Leonard went down and hit the floor. He stretched out on his stomach, pressing himself against the ground and shifting as close to the stacked boxes as he dared without touching them and thus upsetting their precarious balance.  
  
 _Fuck._  
  
If that Klingon was coming over, if he stepped close enough to the stack of boxes to be able to see over it, there was no way he was going to miss Leonard hiding behind them, no matter that he kept himself pressed as close to the floor as possible.  
  
The steps were coming closer, their tread so heavy that Leonard could it as vibrations in the ground. He pressed himself closer to the floor, breathing in flat bursts that suddenly seemed too loud in his own ears, his mind racing through the choices of what he would do if he was really discovered. It wasn't much, though. He could only run, and even if he made it he'd return without Phrax' medication and the virus.  
  
His fingers gripped the smooth floor tightly, searching for purchase where there was none as the steps stopped right on the other side of the suddenly all too small heap of boxes Leonard was cowering behind, and he held his breath. There was a moment of silence, then a loud grunt that had every cell in Leonard's body contracting as he tried to cower away even further, willing himself to become invisible. Every muscle was tense, as poised for a hopeless sprint as he could possibly be.  
  
The grunt was followed by a loud clank and jangle as a heavy box was dropped carelessly atop the one Leonard had just moved. He held his breath, hoping his shifting around hadn't upset the stack's balance so much that it was going to topple over from the additional weight. And wouldn't it be ironic if he met his end by a heavy box dropping on his head instead of by Klingon weapon fire.  
  
The steps picked up again, withdrawing into the direction they had come from, and Leonard sagged against the hard floor as all the tension in his body drained from one moment to the next. He still had a chance.  
  
As he straightened up again, careful to keep his head out of the Klingons' line of sight, he saw that the newest box was large, much larger than the others, and it was sitting right atop the one he had tried to move earlier. There was no chance in hell he could move this box now. Reaching up, he carefully felt the gap he had created earlier. He could feel the single cartridges underneath his fingers, and his heart was still beating wildly as he tried to work his fingers into the gap between two of them in an attempt to pull one out.  
  
He needed one dosage at least. Two would be more reassuring, three might be the safest option. Anything beyond that was going to cost him too much time, even though he'd have preferred to simply grab the entire crate and be done with it. The cartridges shifted against one another as he wriggled his fingers in between and tried to pull one free. It was only a small sound, the nearly inaudible clinking of the cartridges against one another, but it seemed incredibly loud in Leonard's ears.  
  
He bit his lip in concentration as he shifted and pulled at the cartridge. There wasn't enough room to maneuver properly, and crouched behind the boxes as he was Leonard couldn't even see what he was doing. But finally he had a grip on one of the cartridges and slowly pulled it up. The small container was slippery under his suddenly sweaty fingers, and with blunt fingernails he struggled desperately for some sort of purchase on the cartridge.  
  
For a second he thought the cartridge was going to slide back out of his fingers, but then his hand closed around it and he pulled it free. A sound that was half-sob, half laugh threatened to tear free, and he bit his lip harder to keep silent, until his eyes stung from the pain. He immediately stuffed the cartridge into the pocket of his pants.  
  
Everything else was a bonus now. He had one dosage of Phrax' medication, enough to tide her over until help arrived, and he was going to carry that dosage on his body just in case all went wrong and he was going to lose the transport bag he had brought.  
  
The second cartridge was easier to grab and dislodge, but still Leonard's heart was beating fast in his chest as he reached for the second and a third cartridge. Those went into the transport bag, and Leonard allowed himself a deep breath of relief. Just a second. One moment of relief at the fact that half of his mission was over and done with and he was still alive.  
  
For a second, Leonard contemplated leaving right then and there. He had Phrax' medication, and the Klingons were still busy with the crate they had just broken open. It was the perfect moment to make a break for the maintenance shaft, a chance to get there undetected. And for that one moment that he dared to think it, it sounded like the best idea in the world.  
  
But there was still the virus to consider, and while the doctor inside of him screamed that nothing was as important as getting the medication to his patient, he simply couldn't live with the risk of those virus samples landing in the hand of the Klingons. If something went wrong, they were all dead. It wouldn't even matter for Phrax whether she got her medication or not if that virus was set free.  
  
So really, it wasn't much of a choice, even if Leonard allowed himself to indulge in that short moment of thinking about going back now. Then he got a grip on himself and started looking for the crate with the virus.  
  
It turned out that it wasn't hard to find. The airtight transport create, like all containers in which highly contagious biohazard materials were transported, was marked in bright red letters on all four sides, with a yellow warning label slapped on right next to the lettering for good measure. Recognizable enough for every loading dock worker to notice that the crate was supposed to be handled with care. Sadly, also recognizable enough so that the Klingons had immediately suspected the contents of the crate to be worth taking.  
  
The crate was standing near the end of the stack of things the Klingons had put together, and as soon as his eyes fell onto it, Leonard started crawling towards it. He was aware that he was crawling ever closer to the three Klingons, hidden from sight by nothing more than the meager cover the stacked crates of goods provided.  
  
This was madness, Leonard mused as he pressed his elbows into the ground to propel himself forward. And as soon as this was over and done with, Starfleet was going to receive a hefty report about this whole mess, and about why exactly it was a crap idea to let the Admiralty just do as they fucking pleased. Oh, he was going to tell every single Admiral where exactly they could shove their secrecy and the feeling that they were above the rules. In graphic detail. With anatomical charts if they still didn't get it.  
  
The container with the virus was standing towards the end of the stack – of course, because it would have been too much to ask for to find what he was looking for close to where he was – and the boxes weren't stacked as high here. There was barely enough room for Leonard to hide if he was lying on his stomach or back, getting up on his knees was completely out of the question. Not with the three Klingons just fifteen, maybe twenty feet away from him.  
  
One more box was standing on top of the crate with the virus, and with a short prayer to whatever deity might be happening to listen in, Leonard crawled up behind his target and reached for the box that stood atop of the one containing the virus.  
  
The box wasn't heavy, but the angle was all wrong, and lying on his back Leonard didn't have the leverage to lift the box as easily as he normally could have. And he had to move slowly. The Klingons might not be looking his way right now, or at least last he had checked, but he couldn't risk catching their attention by any kind of abrupt movement. Luckily – and as far as Leonard was concerned, he was due some damn luck, thank you very much – the box wasn't too heavy, and he could move it out of the way rather easily.  
  
Now the container with the virus was free, and sliding farther back into his insufficient cover, he carefully pulled the container along with him. It was leaving a gap in the line of loot the Klingons had accumulated, but Leonard could only hope that there had been no concept of plan beyond a cursory separation of useful and not useful items, so that the missing box wasn't going to stand out.  
  
For now, the Klingons seemed to have started on breaking open another crate, if the rhythmic thudding that had picked up was anything to go by. This once, it might come to Leonard's advantage, because he needed to open the coded lock on the small container, and the keypad was going to make a beeping sound with every digit he was going to enter.  
  
The only good thing about it, and Leonard was using the term good in its loosest sense here, was that the container was still sealed. If the coded lock had raised any kind of particular interest in the Klingons, they had decided to postpone any closer inspection of the container and its contents.  
  
At least they weren't all doomed yet. Leonard was willing to take even the smallest mercies right now.  
  
He didn't have any time to lose, so Leonard quickly stretched out flat on his stomach and brought the transport bag he had brought along forward so that it was lying right beside the container. The bag's strap was still around his shoulders, but he'd take the slight impediment of his movement for the sake of being able to move away more quickly if he needed to at any time.  
  
His heart was beating so hard against his ribcage that Leonard was sure the pounding had to transfer to the floor he was pressed against, its echoing vibrations something the Klingons had to feel despite their heavy boots. And even as the rational part of his brain, the small part that wasn't absolutely terrified, told him to shut the fuck up about this nonsense and get to work, his fingers moved towards the keypad on the side of the container.  
  
He could only hope that the locking mechanism had been updated to accept his personal code, because if not he was royally screwed. The container wasn't huge, but big enough so that carrying it over towards the maintenance shaft was not going to work easily.  
  
Leonard waited to the sound of the Klingons' incessant pounding, until he thought he could predict its rhythm somewhat accurately. With the next dull _thud_ , he quickly pressed the first three digits of his identification code into the keypad. The beeping of the keypad seemed extremely shrill to Leonard's ears, but the sound of blunt force used to break down yet another of the large crates didn't let up. Growing more daring, Leonard managed to punch in four more digits with the next beat. He ignored the way his fingers felt numb and clammy as he entered the last two digits the next time the Klingons hammered away at the locked crate. The lock released with a slight hiss as the airtight seal disengaged, and Leonard sank flat to the ground as the tension drained from his body.  
  
For a couple of rapid heartbeats, he did nothing but listen. A part of him was sure that his discovery was immanent, but the dull banging sounds in the background continued. He had no idea how much time he had left, but Leonard still had time. That was the most important thing. He only needed to use it.  
  
Flipping open the lid of the container, Leonard for the first time saw the containers with the virus directly. Right in front of him there were four cylindrical capsules, inside of which the vials with the virus samples were suspended in a stasis field. The solution in which the viral was transported was colored a bright green, for no other reason that it screamed a visual warning at whoever might come across these capsules. Just in case all the warnings slapped on the outside of the box weren't enough to give anyone a clue that the stuff inside the vials might be dangerous.  
  
The stasis field should be reassuring, seeing as it was keeping the virus at a point of no molecular movement, dead for as long as the field was active. But Leonard knew better than to be reassured. Once the stasis field was deactivated, the cylinder as well as the vial within were just as breakable as anything else. The stasis field lost a lot of its reassuring properties once the cylinders were taken out of the safety of its transport crate. But Leonard had no other choice.  
  
Reaching out, he took the first cylinder out of the Styrofoam indentation it had been kept in and carefully placed it into the small transport bag he had brought. There were indentations in the Styrofoam inside the bag to place the cylinders in, too, but the bag was soft where the transport crate had been hard and unyielding, and that alone chased away all thoughts that this was a safe way to transport those vials. It would only take one fall, he'd only have to drop the bag and it had to hit the ground at the wrong angle, and the cylinders were going to crack. If that happened, the stasis field was going to deactivate, and then there'd only be the thin material of the inner vial keeping the virus from spreading through the entire station.  
  
Just brilliant.  
  
He needed to keep the danger of this whole venture in mind, but he'd damn well better stop going over all the crap that could go to hell if he made just one wrong move, because if he kept it up he wasn't going to move anywhere anytime soon.  
  
Leonard didn't know where it came from, what reserves he was drawing from. Maybe it was all the battle experience he had never planned on accumulating back when he had enlisted for Starfleet. Or maybe it was the simple fact that he was a surgeon and used to working under the highest pressure. Whatever it was, his hands were steady as he reached for the vials and carefully placed them into the small transport bag he had brought.  
  
When the cylinders were as secure as they could be, he closed the flap of the bag, secured it and carefully moved it onto his shoulder. He had done it. He had Phrax' medication, and he had the samples of the virus. If he only managed to get back towards the maintenance shaft, they could hole up in Sickbay and wait for the arrival of Enterprise. He only needed to retrace his steps, go back the way he had come, and the Klingons would never know he had even been here.  
  
Leonard turned in the narrow space and started to crawl back, always keeping his head down and out of sight. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, and once more – or maybe still – his heart was beating in a frantic rhythm in his chest. He didn't even want to consider how bad the shakes were going to be once the adrenaline stopped flowing and his body returned to normal. All he thought about was getting back to safety as quickly and silently as possible, and he was going to leave the rest to people who were better equipped to deal with it.  
  
And always, _always_ on the back of his mind was the silent prayer that the Klingons would stay away from this side of the cargo bay for just a few moments longer.  
When he reached the end of the row of accumulated loot, Leonard stopped for a moment, listening intently. The hammering had stopped, and though he could still hear pieces of harsh conversation and the sound of heavy boots behind him and to his left, he had no idea where exactly the three Klingons were. Not anywhere he could see, and if his luck held on, they were still on the other side of the crates in the middle of the room and wouldn't see him.  
  
There was no way to tell for sure, and with a sudden clarity Leonard realized that this was the moment when it all came down to one course of action – he had no other choice but to risk it.  
  
 _Damn it, Jim. If you know what's good for you, you'd better be nearly here already._  
  
Leonard drew a deep breath, then he slowly raised his head until he could look over the stack of boxes. There was nobody in sight, Klingon or otherwise, and before his brain could come up with a reason why this was a horrible idea, he started moving.  
  
Maybe he had moved to fast. Maybe he should have waited for just a few seconds longer. Maybe he hadn't been careful enough, not attentive enough, or maybe his luck was simply running out. Maybe the universe was out to get him, too. Whatever it was, the moment Leonard started moving, he felt his thigh brush against something. He didn't stop; he kept going, but from the corner of his eye he saw one of the boxes he had been hiding behind topple precariously.  
  
At that moment, Leonard _knew_ , and whatever else had been going through his mind until this point was now swept away by one thought.  
  
 _Run_.  
  
And Leonard ran, all thoughts about stealth forgotten. The sound of the box hitting the ground a split-second later seemed deafening, and it sent another spike of adrenaline shooting through his body when a harsh voice barked something in Klingon, and immediately afterwards other steps joined the sound of his own echoing through the cargo bay.  
  
Leonard ran faster.  
  
He only had to get to the maintenance shaft. If he managed that, and got the panel locked behind him, it would buy him some time. Enough time to get back to Sickbay.  
  
He only had to reach the maintenance shaft.  
  
And for a second, maybe two, Leonard thought he was going to make it. He thought his head start was enough.  
  
For one moment, Leonard thought he could be like Jim and make the impossible possible, against all odds.  
  
For one moment.  
  
Then a Klingon warrior stepped out from behind one of the crates, and directly into Leonard's path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "RoQ pa!" - according to my research - means "Put that there!" in Klingon. At least I really hope it does, but if anybody here is more apt at Klingon, I'm open for corrections.


	10. (8.)

**_Stardate 2261.204 (July 22nd, 2261) – 17:18 hours_**  
  
Leonard was a doctor, not a fighter.  
  
He was a surgeon, with a surgeon's instincts. Sometimes, he anticipated a complication, a bleed during a surgery or an averse reaction to a medication, before it became noticeable. He simply knew it was going to happen, even though he couldn't have explained how he knew. He had learned and studied hard for many years, but there was a part to being a doctor, and a good one at that, that wasn't a learned skill. And while he never relied on it, Leonard knew that this inherent skill, that gut feeling about what was going to happen next, had often given him the edge over other doctors he had worked with.  
  
But fact remained that Leonard was and would always be a doctor, and the only up, close and personal encounters with Klingons he ever had had been during xenobiology autopsy simulations. He wasn't a fighter or a tactician, not outside of his surgical bay.  
  
But Leonard McCoy was also Jim Kirk's husband.  
  
Even long before they had been anything more but casual acquaintances, then friends, Jim had taken great care to make sure that Leonard's knowledge didn't remain limited to the academic ivory tower that was the field of medicine. It was Jim who had dragged him to basic and advanced hand-to-hand combat courses, Jim who had insisted he took more survival classes than Leonard's schedule required, Jim who made sure he qualified not only in basic phaser training, but also took qualification courses in the handling of other weapons.  
  
Not all those endeavors had been successful. In fact, Leonard never again wanted to think about the absolute disgrace his near-failure in advanced hand-to-hand combat had been the first time Jim had dragged him to the course. But that was where Jim's real skill had set in. Beyond making sure that Leonard took the courses Starfleet had to offer, Jim had always made sure that Leonard learned the things he was going to need to survive, whether they were something Starfleet deemed worth teaching or not. Jim had tried to share his own instinctive knowledge, his skills at survival during those moments when all rules went out the window and it came down to the struggle to stay alive.  
  
It were lessons Leonard had honestly thought he was never going to need.  
  
So it wasn't surprising that when Leonard saw the Klingon step up directly into his path, his first instinct was to freeze in absolute terror. It lasted for just a moment, merely a second until a voice that sounded suspiciously like his husband's made some of that paralyzing fear melt away and replaced it with something tangible, something to hold on to. Something like a plan, even if not a very elaborate one.  
  
 _Go low._  
  
At that moment, Leonard forgot to care about or question where his instinctive reaction came from. He simply allowed for it to take over, and it wasn't even a difficult choice to make. If he froze up now, he was as good as dead, anyway. So he might as well go down fighting.  
  
Not breaking his stride, he slid the strap of the messenger bag over his neck and shoulder. Throwing it away was suicide, but Leonard knew that he needed to get it out of the way for now. In a movement that reminded him of one of the age-old bowling sims Jim had sometimes dragged him to back at the Academy, Leonard gathered up momentum and slid the bag along the floor, out of his direct path and hopefully far enough away from all Klingons in the room. He could only hope that the momentum was going to be enough to send the bag sliding clear of any potentially trampling boots, but the moment he released the shoulder strap he couldn't afford to keep his eyes on it anymore.  
  
 _Go low._  
  
And Leonard did. It was suicidal, and quite probably sheer madness, but the only thing he seemed able to do was to run straight towards the Klingon, using the second or two of surprise that were probably all he was going to get before the Klingon was going to pull his weapon and make short work of him.  
  
Leonard kept running, kept gathering speed, and at the last possible moment he ducked his head, stuck out his shoulder and propelled himself right into the Klingon's midsection.  
  
 _Always protect your dominant side if you can. When it comes down to it, you're gonna need your dominant hand._  
  
Maybe it was simple instinct that had Leonard tackle the Klingon with his left shoulder, or maybe Jim's words had left some impact after all. All that mattered was that it worked. The impact upset the Klingon's balance, propelled Leonard forward and the Klingon backwards so that the warrior had to take a few steps in order to keep his balance. And it kept him from going for his weapon for just a second longer.  
  
Leonard felt the jar of the impact in his entire body. A sharp stab of pain shot through his left shoulder, and he completely lost his footing as he barreled headfirst into the Klingon, tackling him around his waist and pressing him back against the transport crates a few feet behind them. The second impact jarred him even more, and he barely managed to pull back his head to avoid knocking it against the paneling of the crate.  
  
Leonard had no illusions that he had inflicted any kind of damage. There were twenty-three ribs protecting the Klingon thoracic cavity, a lot more than in a human. Even the full force of his body weight thrown against the Klingon's chest wasn't going to cause any serious harm. Leonard knew that without a weapon, he didn't stand a chance in a fight against a Klingon. They just didn't have many weak spots.  
  
Exoskeleton encasing the cranium.  
  
Multiple redundancy in their inner organs – every damn vital function was protected by a redundant system.  
  
Two livers, three lungs, even if Leonard managed to get in a blow that was going to do some damage to an inner organ, the Klingon body had a backup in place. Probably, it was only going to enrage the Klingon further if Leonard tried to punch him, and the only thing worse than fighting against a Klingon was fighting against a mad Klingon.  
  
 _Fight dirty._  
  
That was a lesson he hadn't needed to learn from Jim, but Jim was the one who had driven it home. A code of conduct counted for nothing unless all parties involved in the fight stuck to it. And whatever that Klingon's code of honor was, Leonard was sure they were not eye to eye on it.  
  
Before the Klingon regained his balance, Leonard struggled to get his feet back under him. The Klingon's torso was too well protected, as was his head unless Leonard had some kind of weapon. But there were other weak spots. Non-vital ones, but Leonard didn't want to kill. All Leonard wanted was to buy himself time.  
  
As soon as one of his boots found purchase against the ground, he propelled himself up again, hands fisted tight in the fabric covering the Klingon's shoulders for purchase. His right foot found the back of the Klingon's knee, and while the Klingon's leg was still bent slightly in an attempt to regain his balance, Leonard pushed his whole body weight behind it as he jumped down on the back of his leg.  
  
The roar of pain was deafening in his ear, and he felt the bone give underneath his foot. Even Klingons didn't have tendons that could withstand the force of a fully grown man jumping on the bones they secured, and while Leonard didn't think he had broken the his leg, he had torn those tendons supporting the knee for sure. Painful, even for a Klingon warrior.  
  
He was still holding on to the Klingon's tunic, and as the warrior toppled to the ground he pulled Leonard with him. He rolled, trying to bring some distance between himself and the Klingon, but as they fell something bright flashed near his face, brushing just past him and impacting where his head had been just a second ago.  
  
Damn.  
  
One Klingon at close range was bad enough, another one shooting at him was worse. A lot worse.  
  
Instead of pushing himself off and rolling away, Leonard instinctively pulled closer and shifted, throwing his whole body weight into an attempt to turn them both around. It was a split-second decision, but Leonard noticed too late that there was too much momentum. They were falling, the Klingon was going to end up right on top of him, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop that.  
  
Once more, there was the sound of a weapon discharging somewhere to his right, and out of sheer instinct Leonard tried to flinch away. But it was too late. To Leonard, no time seemed to pass at all between the sound of the shot and the impact. It felt like an extra shove, an additional push just before they hit the ground. The Klingon landed right atop of him, knocking the breath out of Leonard's lungs and tearing a yell of pain from him as the Klingon's weight crushed into his torso.  
  
For a second, Leonard had no idea what had happened, and the only reason why he could say which way was up and which way was down was because of the crushing weight atop of him. His shoulder hurt, and the back of his head had hit the ground hard enough for his vision to explode into stars, but after a second or two Leonard realized that he was still breathing. Trying to, at least, as much as he could with what felt like over two-hundred pounds of Klingons weighing down on him.   
  
There was no time to look for explanations, all Leonard grasped was that by some miracle he was still alive, and the Klingon atop of him wasn't moving. Leonard wasn't going to waste his time trying to figure out if he had been hit by the shot intended for him or was simply befuddled by the fall.  
  
With both hands, Leonard pushed at the Klingon's shoulders. His whole body hurt and protested against the strain, and his muscles threatened to give out as he tried to shift the Klingon off of him. Leonard had no illusions about the fact that if the Klingon above him was still alive, he'd be long dead by now, but being pinned underneath him like this he made him an easy target for the other Klingons who were still around.  
  
Leonard scrambled free desperately, despite the pain and the fact that he had to look like a beetle trapped on its back with the way his arms and legs were shifting, trying to push away the dead weight atop of him. He struggled to sit up, but as he raised his torso in order to push off the dead Klingon, another shot brushed just past his shoulder.  
  
Leonard hit the ground again, heart beating wildly in his chest. Without a weapon, he was screwed.  
  
His fingers felt strangely numb and clumsy as he began patting down the Klingon that was still lying half-atop of him. Finally, his fingers closed around the disruptor pistol strapped to the Klingon's right side and pulled it free.  
  
 _Inhale. Aim. Exhale. Adjust aim and fire._  
  
He didn't even check the weapon's setting. Klingons didn't take hostages; they didn't shoot to stun. And right now, he had no time to worry about that before he used the pistol. He had no idea where he took the burst of strength from, but with one hand he pushed himself off the ground as he brought the surprisingly heavy weapon up, searching for his target.  
  
There was a quick burst of adrenaline as he realized that he didn't even have to search, that the second Klingon was advancing on him, and was already much closer than he had anticipated. He was coming towards him with his own weapon raised, and Leonard didn't even think. He squeezed the trigger, balancing the weapon for a second shot even as the burst of the first one threw his hand slightly off its aim.  
  
There was a burst of red light erupting from his weapon, and Leonard threw himself to the ground as he saw the Klingon shoot his own weapon. Leonard tried to keep the gun aimed at his target like he had learned to do, but one of the Klingon's shots went wide and hit the container to Leonard's left. The side of the container exploded into a myriad of shards of paneling that came raining down on him, and blindly Leonard squeezed off two more shots before he threw himself to the ground, one arm held up to shield his face.  
  
He felt the impact of dozens of tiny plastic shards pierce the skin of his neck and face where his arm didn't provide any cover, but surprisingly he didn't feel any pain. He was still running on too much adrenaline, and once the shower of debris had stopped, Leonard rolled to his side and sat up, bringing the pistol along with him in one movement.  
  
The Klingon was lying on the ground, a mere five feet or so away from Leonard, and he wasn't moving. Slowly, without taking his eyes off of him just once, Leonard scrambled to his feet. A distant part of his brain told him that Klingons didn't pretend, that their code of honor had very strict rules which didn't usually imply playing dead to trick an opponent into a false sense of security, but right now Leonard only believed in what his own eyes were seeing.  
  
His legs felt strangely weak as he stumbled over to where the Klingon was lying, and it took a few moments for him to register that the harsh sound in his ears was his own breathing.  
  
The Klingon didn't move even as Leonard stepped closer, and with his stolen weapon aimed straight at the unmoving form Leonard nudged him with his boot until the prone body rolled over.  
There was a burnt hole in the fabric of the Klingon's tunic, maybe five inches below the center of his chest. Underneath the hole he saw the charred and singed flesh of a wound the likes of which Leonard had seen countless times during his years as a doctor. Had seen far too many of, in fact.  
  
He knew that it had been a lucky shot, not the result of any kind of ability, but that wasn't what went through Leonard's head at that moment. The Klingon had wanted to kill him. A few seconds later and he would have been dead. There had been no other choice but to pull that trigger. But still, Leonard felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of what he had just done.  
  
Later.  
  
He would deal with this later. Had to deal with this later. He needed to get out of here, and now. The whole incident had seemed endless to him, but had probably lasted less than a minute. He needed to get out of here before any more Klingons showed up.  
  
With the disruptor pistol still clutched in his right hand, Leonard took a second to get his bearings. The transport bag. He needed to find the transport bag.  
  
It was lying maybe fifteen feet away from him, where the momentum of sliding it across the floor had pushed it up against the side of yet another of the crates. Leonard didn't really know how he got there, how his legs were still carrying him, but next thing he knew was that he was bending down, the fingers of his left hand closing around the strap as he lifted it.  
  
He needed to check, even though he already knew that in case one of the containers had been damaged he didn't want to see it. Unsealing the flap, Leonard lifted it up and peered inside. The four containers with the virus samples still rested in the indentations in the padding, and the two cartridges with Phrax' medication seemed undamaged as well.  
  
Leonard allowed himself to breathe a little easier, just for a second until his head cleared enough to carry on. He hoisted the bag onto his shoulders, secured the strap and focused on the crate behind which the entrance to the maintenance shaft was hidden. He only needed to get there. But even as he hurried towards the crate, he still kept his eyes out to anything out of the ordinary, any kind of movement. There had been three Klingons here earlier, and he hadn't seen the third one since his presence had been discovered.  
  
Leonard wanted nothing more than to hurry, to run if necessary, towards the opening and close the panel behind himself, but he forced himself to keep his pace moderate, enough to stop and duck for cover at the slightest sign of movement.  
  
But there was none. No movement, and no sound except for the rapid beating of his own heart that seemed obscenely loud in his ears. Leonard moved as quickly as he dared, always keeping his back to the cover of the crates and his eyes roaming around the wide expanse of the cargo hold. Fifteen feet to the edge of the container, then ten. At five feet he tightened his grip on the disruptor, bringing it up in front of him as he rounded the corner. But the space was empty, and Leonard felt hope flare up again. Just a couple of feet more. He just had to get to the back of the container and he'd be right at the entrance of the maintenance shaft.  
  
The guttural cry was all the warning Leonard got, and he had only a split second to curse his own stupidity for looking everywhere but _up_ as he made his way towards the maintenance shaft. The moment he realized that the third marauder had climbed up on the crate Leonard had been trying to get around, his knees already buckled from the force of the Klingon jumping down on him. A searing pain shot through his left shoulder, so fierce and bad that he couldn't stop the cry of pain the impact tore from his throat. His back hit the wall, hard, and the weight of the Klingon against him was the only thing keeping him upright since his legs suddenly no longer seemed able to support his weight. The transport bag dug uncomfortably into his back, but for once Leonard didn't have any thoughts to spare on the virus samples it contained. Everything around him lost focus, until all that mattered was the agonizing pain in his shoulder, and the fact that the Klingon had gotten the better of him and was probably going to kill him any moment now.  
  
The Klingon was right in front of him, face pulled into a sneer. One of his hands still clutched the hilt of the blade he had driven deep into Leonard's shoulder, and Leonard couldn't stop another scream from tearing free as the he slowly twisted the blade. Bright spots were dancing across Leonard's vision, and it felt tempting to just give in, to wish for the pain to become just that slight bit stronger so that it became too much to bear and he could slip into blissful oblivion.  
  
Then his thoughts strayed to Jim – always, _always_ they inevitably ended up circling around Jim – and an inexplicable rage started to spread through him. This was _not_ happening. He was not going to let that damn Klingon set an end to the best thing of his life. Jim was on his way, he was going to be here in a few hours, and Leonard was going to make damn sure he was still around when that happened.  
  
He still had a grip on the disruptor pistol, but the Klingon was too close. It would have been the right idea, the _logical_ choice, Leonard thought with a mental snigger, to just get off a shot and risk that part of the energy discharge was going to hit him, but he didn't. Without conscious thought, Leonard began to move, felt his arm swing up in a wide arc before he brought the heavy gun down on the Klingon's ridged head plate.  
  
It was a burst of energy that he by all rights shouldn't be able to bring up anymore. It was the last defiant struggle of a body well beyond its limits. But the only clear thoughts on his mind were that this couldn't be the end of it, that he had to get out of this to get the medication to Phrax, that he had to bring the virus away from here, that he had to see Jim again.  
  
It was the freak kind of energy spur that happened when a body reared one last time in an attempt to ensure its survival, one that encompassed all the hope and desperation Leonard felt, and the impact of the weapon against the Klingon's skull was so hard that it knocked the weapon right out of Leonard's hand. The Klingon stared at him for a second, until that gaze suddenly turned glassy and distant, and he sank to the ground.  
  
Tricipital lobe, the one weak spot in the Klingon cranial exoskeleton. One hard blow to the right spot was enough to stop even a Klingon.  
  
Yet even in death the Klingon's grip on the knife remained firm, and as he sagged to the ground it pulled out of Leonard's shoulder. He went to his knees with a guttural cry of pain as the serrated blade tore at flesh and muscle as it slipped out. His vision blackened even while he was still screaming, and he barely even noticed that he had landed atop the fallen Klingon. The pain was too overwhelming, and as he brought his hand up to the wound it immediately encountered warm, sticky blood soaking through the fabric of his uniform shirt.  
  
Damn it.  
  
It was too much blood, too quickly. He needed to stop the blood flow, Leonard knew that, but as he pressed the heel of his hand against the wound, the pain flared up again even worse than before. Bile rose in his throat and instinctively, Leonard tried to support himself as his body bowed forward. The movement jarred his shoulder again, and for a short moment that was almost beautiful in its brilliance, brightness exploded across his vision, so light and all-encompassing that it made him forget about the pain.  
  
Then his shoulder hit the floor, and the pain flared back up as darkness replaced everything else, and Leonard was unable to do anything but surrender.


	11. (9.)

**_Stardate 2261.204 (July 22nd, 2261) – 17:35 hours_**  
  
He must have blacked out, because the next thing Leonard became aware of was that he was lying on the ground, his body folded uncomfortably over that of the dead Klingon. His shoulder was on fire, his stomach was lurching painfully, and everything was a little fuzzy around the edges. Well, everything but the stench that assaulted his nostrils. He had never wanted to get this up close and personal with a Klingon, and the first thing he noticed upon slowly regaining consciousness was that the Klingon smelled awful.  
  
Or maybe the vomit on the floor beneath him was the source of the smell, and wasn't it a cheerful thought that he had thrown up and then lost consciousness. Asphyxiation definitely wasn't the way Leonard ever wanted to go, much less suffocation on his own vomit. That was the way to go for dumb drunk frat boys, not doctors who damn well knew better.  
  
He needed to get moving, he knew that, but it was no small feat to even get himself to his feet in the first place. His shoulder was sending spikes of agony down his entire left side with even the smallest movement, breathing included, and his limbs seemed too heavy and uncoordinated, his legs too weak to carry him. Inwardly, Leonard's clinical mind analyzed the damage, and he knew it was bad.  
  
Blood loss, substantial though not enough to suggest a nicked artery. If that was the case, he wouldn't have woken up again after falling unconscious. But still, the knife wound in his shoulder was still bleeding, and that was bad.  
The left side of his face was burning, but it took him a moment to remember that disruptor shot impacting into the crate right next to his face. Small cuts, maybe some burns too, that was all he could tell without a scanner or at least a mirror to examine himself. A nuisance, though, but not a dangerous or even life-threatening injury. If there were still shards stuck in the wounds, they weren't going to kill him as long as they were treated some time soon.  
  
Everything else hurt, but there was no pain Leonard could determine that would have hinted at another injury. Which was good, considering that the knife wound was already more trouble than he was equipped to deal with right now. He needed to get back to Medical, and not only to deliver Phrax' medication and the virus samples, but also because he needed medical treatment, and quickly. If he didn't get going right now, he wasn't going to go anywhere unaided.  
  
Slowly, Leonard struggled back to his feet. The transport bag containing the virus still hung against his back, but unlike earlier Leonard didn't open it to check its contents. The bag wasn't airtight; if any of the containers had gotten damaged in the earlier scuffle the virus had long since spread through the ventilation system of the entire station. In that case, it wasn't going to matter if he took the bag with him or left it here, because the virus was already everywhere. And on the off-chance that the cylinders hadn't been damaged, he had to take the bag with him.  
  
His legs were shaking, knees too weak and loose-jointed to support him for more than a stumbling walk, but Leonard knew that he needed to get into the maintenance shaft before he did anything else. He had to get out of the way of the Klingons before he did anything else, because he didn't have the strength left to deal with another fight, or even a scuffle.  
  
It were only a couple of feet, but it felt like an impossibly long distance to him. Swaying, Leonard felt his way along the wall towards the open panel. He had picked up the Klingon disruptor and was clutching it tightly in his uninjured hand. Now that he had a weapon, he wasn't going to leave it behind. Knowing his luck, those weren't the last Klingon he had run into for today.  
  
He fell more than climbed into the maintenance shaft, unable to suppress a groan of pain as his left shoulder collided with the wall he fell against. His vision was turning blurry, and he bit his lip hard, breathing in short bursts through his nose. He nearly blackened out again, and it took a seemingly endless time before he dared to move again.  
  
Breathe. He needed to breathe, slowly and deliberately. He couldn't start hyperventilating on top of everything else.  
  
The first thing he did, despite the pain, was hit the control switch on the wall with his palm, then he sank back with a deep exhale as the wall panel slid back into place, a thin and treacherous barrier between him and whatever Klingons were still in the station.  
  
One step. He was out of the Klingon's immediate sight. But before he could even think about getting back to Medical, he needed to take care of the bleeding.  
Without any kind of medical supplies, there wasn't much he could do other than to try and stem the flow of blood. Leonard knew that he was already experiencing the effects of the blood loss, and that as soon as the adrenaline stopped giving him enough of an edge to stay upright he was going to crash spectacularly. For now he needed to prolong that, though.  
  
Moving was clumsy with only one mobile arm, but he managed to dislodge the strap of the transport bag from his shoulders and carefully set the bad gown on the ground. Getting out of his shirt was more difficult, and no matter how carefully he moved, no matter that he tried to shift his uninjured arm and nothing else, as soon as he pulled the shirt over his head the pain in his shoulder flared up worse than before, and Leonard sank to the ground, panting and grunting and maybe even sobbing a little in pain.  
  
Damn, that hurt.  
  
Endless minutes – time he knew he didn't have – Leonard lay on the floor and tried to get a grip on himself, at least enough so that he could keep on moving.  
  
Getting his outer shirt off his injured arm was an experience in new levels of agony, and he couldn't hold back the sounds of pain as he shrugged the fabric off. If there were any more Klingons in the cargo hold, they wouldn't need to search long to find out where he had gone to, not with the trail of blood he had left and the sounds of pain he couldn't hold back.  
  
There was no way he could make fashion a real pressure bandage to stop the flow of blood from the wound, but a makeshift bandage would have to do. Clumsily, he rolled the shirt up, then he loosened the shoulder strap from the transport bag. Crude, and definitely makeshift triage, but it would have to do.  
  
Leonard breathed deeply a few times as he brought the rolled up fabric to his shoulder and pressed it against the wound. He brought the strap around the bandage, fitting one end through the clasp it had been fastened with. Then he leaned back against the wall of the corridor, braced himself with his feet against the opposite wall, took one last deep breath and tightened the strap.  
  
The pain was worse than before, nearly as bad as when the knife had come out, and Leonard slid down the wall, his feet pounding against the panel opposite him as yet another scream tore from his lips.  
  
Damn, but that hurt.  
  
Weakly, he rolled to the side as his stomach rolled again and he started to heave even though he had nothing left to bring up.  
  
Fuck. Fuck, fuck. Fuck.  
  
His screams had probably attracted all Klingons in the vicinity, and Leonard knew that he needed to get away. He was leaving a trail a mile wide as to where he had gone, and his only chance was to get to Medical where they cold lock themselves in and wait for help to arrive. And he needed to get there now, because he wasn't equipped to outrun anybody, much less a Klingon out for revenge.  
  
The maintenance shaft was narrow and low enough so that he had to crawl – not that Leonard thought he could have gotten back to his feet again – and he had to push the transport bag in front of him every time he put his right hand forward. His left arm was completely useless and he was holding it pressed against his side, forearm across his stomach in an attempt to move it as little as possible. Basically, he was limping on all fours, and it was slowing him down.  
  
The world was getting hazy and dark around the edges, too, and with every moment that passed it got harder and harder to focus on the narrow corridor in front of him and the right way back to Medical. Had it been left-left-right and then straight ahead? Or maybe left-right-left till the end of the corridor? He couldn't remember, and when he suddenly reached a dead end in the corridor where he was sure it should be branching off to the left, panic slowly started to rise inside of him.  
  
If he got lost now, he was never going to make it. He was never going to get Phrax' medication to her in time, and he wasn't going to last until Jim got here.  
  
Jim.  
  
Jim would know where to go, and how to get out of this mess. Jim wouldn't end up like a pathetic heap in this dead-end corridor, bemoaning the fact that he had nearly made it.  
  
Damn it.  
  
Biting his lip, Leonard shuffled back to the last intersecting corridor. There was a blood trail to his right, where his shoulder had brushed up against the corridor wall, so that was where he had come from.  
  
Great job, Leonard. Should have become a detective, not a doctor.  
  
He told his inner voice to shut the hell up if it had nothing useful to say and turned to the left. With any luck, he had only crawled down one corridor too soon. If that was the case, then the next corridor to the left should lead him to the junction where the panel opening to Medical Bay was. If not…well, he was going to deal with that shitfest once it happened, _if_ it happened at all, and not a second sooner.  
  
The walls seemed to be closing in around him, and it was getting harder and harder to keep track of the corridors branching off. His field of vision was too narrow, but focusing on anything that wasn't lying straight ahead cost too much strength that he didn't have left to waste.  
  
In fact, Leonard was so far gone that he nearly crawled past an access panel without noticing. He only noticed it when he was nearly past it already and caught sight of the panel's inscription from the corner of his eye.  
  
Even as he stopped, Leonard knew, somewhere deep down, that if this turned out to be the wrong panel, he wasn't going to have the strength to continue looking for the right one.  
  
Section B22-Alpha, cross-junction C. Was that Medical? He didn't know. Or rather, he did know, he _knew_ that he knew, but damn if he was able to recall that piece of information right now. So he'd just have to take that gamble. Either he was going to end up in Medical, where someone would be able to take care of his wounds, or he was going to stumble out into a random corridor and that would be the end of his journey.  
  
With a grunt of pain, Leonard straightened up and hit the access panel with his good hand. It wasn't as if he had any other choice in the matter, anyway.  
The panel slid aside a second later, the hiss of its disengaging mechanism nearly lost over the pounding in Leonard's ears. It was hard enough to try and focus on anything in the bright light that suddenly came streaming into the maintenance shaft. There were steps, loud voices that Leonard couldn't distinguish, and then a shadow fell over him as someone stepped in front of the opened panel.  
  
Leonard blinked, and found himself looking into the business end of a phaser aimed right at him.  
  
His pulse sped up, he could feel it in the increased pounding in his shoulder, but it felt as if his body couldn't muster up any more adrenaline to make him able to react to this in any way. All he saw was the phaser, and all he could think was that this was going to be the end, then.  
  
But there was no shot, and a second later the phaser was lowered and a very young, very pale face moved into Leonard's limited field of vision. He knew that face from somewhere, though he had serious problems figuring out from where exactly.  
  
"Doctor McCoy? Are you all right?"  
  
Ensign… _Wilcox_ , that was it. Ensign Wilcox. Leonard could have cried in relief if he still had the strength left for any kind of reaction. If he was looking at Ensign Wilcox, then he had managed to get back to Medical Bay, and maybe, just maybe, things would turn out all right in the end.  
  
"Doctor McCoy?"  
  
He still hadn't answered the question, Leonard realized, and he didn't know if he could bring up the strength to say anything. So instead, though it was the last thing he wanted to admit, shook his head.  
  
"No," he rasped out, surprised that his voice seemed to be working after all. "Gimme a hand."  
  
He pointed at the transport bag sitting in front of his knees, and fortunately Ensign Wilcox seemed to catch his drift immediately and reached for the bag.  
  
"Careful," Leonard admonished, though it was a ridiculous notion considering how much the bag containing the virus had been jostled around during the past half hour. Wilcox put the bag down on the nearest flat surface, but before he could turn around, another voice cut through the white noise in Leonard's head.  
  
"Leonard!"  
  
And it didn't make sense, but suddenly Megan was right there in front of him, crouching down in front of the panel and reaching for Leonard's arm to help him up. But she grabbed for his injured arm, and as the pain flared up anew, he could only flinch back with a sharp cry. The movement jarred his shoulder even further, and he could feel his entire body grow cold as he stumbled back. His shoulder was on fire, but the rest of his body was going icy and numb, and Leonard knew he was going to slide into shock soon.  
  
"Sorry. But we need to get you out of there."  
  
She reached for his other arm then, her eyes seeking out Leonard's and waiting for his confirming nod before she tightened her grip and started to pull. It still hurt, but this time he knew it was coming and the preparation made it at least a little easier to bear. He grit his teeth and tried to think about anything but the pain that was flaring down his entire left side. He was relying far too much on Megan's guidance as he got to his feet, far more than he'd be comfortable with under any other circumstances.  
  
For a few long seconds, nausea, vertigo and dizziness battled for dominance, and Leonard was grateful that Megan retained her grip on his good arm until he felt somewhat steady on his feet. He had nearly done it. Just a few more things, just a little longer, then he could sit down, close his eyes and worry about nothing until Jim got here.  
  
Once he was sure that he wasn't going to keel over on his feet, Leonard took a quick look around the room. It still looked the same as it had done when he had left, all the chaos included, and everyone was staring at him from wide eyes.  
  
First things first.  
  
He wasn't too sure that he was steady enough on his own feet yet, but he'd simply have to try.  
  
"Megan?"  
  
"Leonard, you're bleeding. I need to look at your shoulder…"  
  
He shook his head to stop her.  
  
"Activate the biohazard alert."  
  
Megan's eyes grew wide. "What? Why?"  
  
"Activate the alert."  
  
She continued to shake her head in confusion, eyeing the transport bag where it stood against the wall. "Leonard, what happened?"  
  
Now was not the time for explanations. Leonard tried to put as much steadiness and authority into his voice as he could.  
  
"Put us on lockdown, Lieutenant. That's an order."  
  
It was unfair, he knew it, but he was desperate enough to use this last resort, even if Megan looked slightly betrayed as he pulled rank on her. For a moment, he thought she was going to defy his order, but then her grip on his arm loosened and Leonard had enough to do to keep himself upright unaided as he watched how she went over towards the nearest wall panel and slapped her palm against the red biohazard control panel.  
  
Immediately, all entrances and exits to Medical Bay sealed off hermetically and airtight, and that included all maintenance shafts, supply junctures – and the ventilation system. There was no way the Klingons were going to get in here now, even if they followed blood trail Leonard had left. But the moment the low and steady background hum of the airing system died down, Leonard experienced a moment of doubt.  
He had effectively locked them in, broken off all connections to the rest of the station. And he had left them with six, maybe seven hours of breathable air. If that wasn't enough, if something went wrong and help didn't come until then, he had doomed them all.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A booming voice from somewhere behind yelled. Leonard had hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with Admiral Marlow anymore, but it seemed as if this was the point where his luck was finally going to run out.  
  
He ignored the Admiral and reached into his pocket with his good hand as Megan stepped up to him again.  
  
"How is Phrax?"  
  
Megan still looked torn between frustration, worry and fear, and it took her a second to focus on Leonard's question.  
  
"She's holding on, but she's getting worse."  
  
Leonard finally managed to take the cartridge out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand.  
  
"There. There's two more dosages in the bag."  
  
Megan looked at the cartridge in surprise, as if she hadn't expected that Leonard had managed to retrieve the medication, but then she quickly turned and handed the cartridge over to Nurse Harper.  
  
"Give 40cc to Lieutenant Phrax, and call me if her oxygen saturation doesn't stabilize and go up within the next five minutes." She turned back towards Leonard, reaching for his arm again, but before she could do that, Admiral Marlow interrupted again.  
  
"What the hell did you just do, McCoy?"  
  
And though it was the most ridiculous thought, Leonard couldn't help but notice that all of a sudden, Marlow no longer seemed to insist on using his full title when addressing him.  
  
"I closed us off from the rest of the station," Leonard grumbled, not even looking at the man. "Because very soon the Klingons are going to notice that the latinum isn't in the cargo hold, and then they're going to look everywhere else. And it won't take them long to figure out where I went."  
  
Not when he had been bleeding all over the place, and judged by the way Megan was hovering beside him, she was well aware of how serious his injury was.  
  
Marlow was spluttering beside him, but with a firm grip around his arm Megan led Leonard over towards the nearest biobed and picked up a tricorder. Leonard wanted nothing more than to lie down on the biobed, close his eyes and sleep until this whole mess was over, but he knew that if he lay down now, he wasn't going to get up again. And he wasn't yet ready to let go.  
  
"How…?"  
  
Megan looked up at him. "How what? How did I get here?" At Leonard's nod, she huffed. "What, you think you're the only one who can crawl through a maintenance shaft? Lieutenant Miller woke up and insisted on going back on duty. They no longer needed me in Ops, and when I called Medical and Nurse Harper told me that you had decided to go out into a station swarming with Klingons to chase after that virus, I thought it might be a good idea to come back here. And seeing the state you're in tells me it was the right choice. Just what the hell did you think you were doing?"  
  
But Leonard's mind was on something else entirely than to get chewed out by Megan for doing what needed to be done.  
  
"Megan, the virus."  
  
"Not now, Leonard" she answered, eyes fixed on the readout of her tricorder. "I'll look after your shoulder first, then we're going to worry about everything else."  
  
Leonard knew that his wound was bad, bad enough that Megan wasn't going to be able to do much about it right now. The blade had gone in deep, and it was going to require surgery to get the bleeding under control. Enterprise was on its way, Leonard was sure of that. He could wait. He'd have to wait.  
  
"Nothing you can do about it now, Megan."  
  
She shook her head in what Leonard guessed was sheer stubbornness, because he knew she was a good enough doctor to come to the same conclusions as he had.  
  
"Leonard…"  
  
"No, Megan. If you take off the pressure bandage, you're only going to make it worse if you don't get me into surgery immediately."  
  
Her eyes flared defiantly. "And you know that the longer the pressure bandage stays on, the more damage the restricted blood flow is going to do to your arm."  
  
Leonard was only too aware of that, but there was nothing he could do about it. Considering his alternatives, he'd just have to take his chance. And before Megan could start another attempt at convincing him that he needed to let her treat him, Marlow all but pushed her out of the way.  
  
"What have you two done? You locked us in here, and you cut off our air."  
  
There was a wide look in the Admiral's eyes that immediately set the alarm bells in Leonard's head ringing. Megan took a step towards the man, her stance firm and her voice determined.  
  
"There is plenty of air left for us to wait out until help arrives, and during a biohazard lockdown Medical Bay is probably the safest place to be aboard the entire station. Considering that you are the one who brought those Klingons here, you should be glad you're not on the other side of these doors right now."  
  
Leonard didn't know why, but he slid down from the biobed to stand on slightly shaky legs. Something was off here, something about the Admiral was different than before, and Megan was too busy to notice. If only his brain wasn't too fogged up from the pain and the blood loss, then surely he'd be able to put his finger on it…  
  
"You cut off our air! We're going to die in here!"  
  
Panic. Damn it, that was what the wide-eyed look and irrational yelling were all about. Marlow was panicking, and the last thing they needed right now with Medical filled up with injured patients and scared people was someone yelling about death.  
  
"Nobody's going to die," Leonard groaned, taking a step towards Megan and the Admiral. "Our air is going to last six hours at least, and Enterprise is going to get here long before that. So you are going to step back right now and wait this out with the rest of us. And if you don't, I'm personally going to sedate you, is that understood?"  
  
"You have no right…" Marlow stuttered, but Leonard cut him off.  
  
"I have every right. I'm the highest ranking Medical officer in this room, which means I'm in charge. And I tell you that I'm not letting anybody die on my watch, but if you're going to panic now it's not going to help anybody. So step back, Admiral. Right. Now."  
  
Leonard wasn't going to hold out for a lengthy stare down, but after a few tense seconds, Marlow ran a hand over his face and turned away with a sigh. Leonard didn't think this was the end of it yet, but for now Marlow at least had stopped panicking. He started pacing up and down on the other end of the room, and Leonard stopped looking what he was doing. He only had enough focus left for one thing at once.  
  
Turning back towards Megan, he put a hand on her arm to get her attention.  
  
"The virus," he repeated. "It's still in the bag. I…we need to lock it up in the lab."  
  
"Okay." She squeezed his arm once. "I'll do that. But once I'm done with that, you'll let me take a closer look at your shoulder."  
  
Leonard still didn't think it was going to help much if she examined him, but he nodded and Megan released her grip on his arm.  
  
"Good. Stay here, I'll take the virus into the lab and then I'll come back."  
  
She went over towards the bag that was still standing where Ensign Wilcox had left it earlier, but Leonard didn't stay leaning against the biobed as he had promised. His legs felt numb, strangely detached from the rest of his body, but he thought that if he only kept moving, he could prolong the moment when he was inevitably going to crash.  
  
So instead of waiting for Megan to come back, Leonard slowly moved over towards Phrax' biobed to check up on her. From the corner of his eyes he saw Megan walk towards the lab, and he distantly noticed the beeps of the keypad as she typed in her code to open the door. But just as he was about to focus his attention fully on Phrax and the readouts on her bed to see if he had brought the medication in time, he saw more movement near the lab and turned his head.  
  
The moment he saw that it was Admiral Marlow, and that he made move to follow Megan into the lab, Leonard started moving. He wasn't as fast as he would have liked, it felt like one of those dreams in which he was running without moving forward, and somewhere deep down he knew that whatever was going to happen now, he wasn't going to be fast enough to stop it.  
  
The door to the lab hadn't yet closed fully behind Megan as Marlow pushed it open again. Leonard heard Megan's startled shout and tried to quicken his steps, he really did, but he simply knew he wasn't going to make it.  
  
The upper half of the lab door was a glass pane, and Leonard saw that Megan was standing near one of the lab tables, the stasis drawer already pulled out and one of the virus sample cylinders in her hand. She had deactivated the stasis field around the vial, must have activated it in order to place it inside the safety of the drawer. And though he was moving as fast as he could, Leonard could only watch how Marlow stepped up to Megan and tried to reach for the vial she was holding. He was talking, nearly yelling, something about ' _Klingons_ ' and ' _leverage_ ', but Leonard didn't hear the rest over the pounding of his own blood in his ears.  
  
He didn't need to hear it. Marlow was panicking, whatever plans he had for using the virus as leverage against the Klingons weren't clear-headed, and he needed to be stopped before he did something stupid.  
  
But Leonard was too far away, and he could only watch how Marlow reached for Megan's hand, trying to tear the vial out of it. Megan resisted, tried to twist out of the Admiral's grasp, but his hold on her was firm.  
  
Leonard didn't know how it happened, or maybe his mind was refusing to process what he was seeing. For a second, it looked like Marlow and Megan were dancing a strange kind of dance that had him reaching for the vial and her trying to step away from his grasp. The next, the vial was no longer in Megan's hand, and everything seemed to stop for a second as it fell towards the ground.  
  
It all seemed to happen in slow-motion, and while a part of Leonard's brain was still screaming that it was impossible, that this wasn't happening, another part took over. Leonard had been a doctor for well over a decade, and he had been through countless emergency drills in that time. His reaction was instinctive and didn't require conscious thought. Even as Megan was staring in disbelief as the vial with the virus samples dropped to the ground, Leonard's hand was already going for the emergency button beside the door. He hit it the moment the vial dropped to the ground, sealing the door between the lab and the main Medical Bay.  
  
On the other side of the door, Megan's head snapped up and she looked at Leonard through the glass. Her eyes were wide with fear, and Leonard didn't need to look at the floor to see what had happened.  
  
The vial was broken.  
  
And if the vial was broken, it meant the virus had been set free. _ ****_

_**Stardate 2261.204 (July 22nd, 2261) – 18:20 hours**_  
  
Megan's eyes were wide as she was staring at him through the glass pane of the lab door, and Admiral Marlow probably hadn't even realized yet what was happening. But they didn't have time for everyone to catch up to the enormity of it all. Leonard raised his good hand and pressed the comm button that opened a channel to the inside of the lab.  
  
"Decon shower, both of you. Now."  
  
There was a door at the back of the lab that, just like its counterpart in the second lab, led through an airlock into the decontamination showers. The virus was highly contagious, and chances were good that the entire air in the lab was contaminated by now, but Leonard hoped that for once they might get lucky.  
  
Megan kept looking at him for a second or two longer, and Leonard was just about to tell her in no uncertain terms to get Marlow into the decon showers right the fuck now when she finally overcame her paralysis and turned around. Grabbing Marlow's arm, she dragged him out through the door in the back. Leonard waited before the door slid close and the small light above it turned from green to red before he initiated the decontamination sequence.  
  
The automated sequence immediately sucked all the contaminated air out of the lab, sending it through a system of ventilation shafts directly into space. Before fresh air was pumped back into the room, a system integrated into the lab's ceiling hosed the entire room with a special disinfectant foam, one that was designed to neutralize all pathogens in the air and on all surfaces. Only once that had dissolved was the room pressurized again.  
  
And all that meant that all the air that had previously been in the lab was lost now, and since Medical was on biohazard lockdown they weren't getting any fresh air to replace what they had just shot into the vacuum of space.  
  
Fucking great. It was cutting gat least an hour off of their remaining time, if not more. Closer to two hours, probably, considering the size of the lab.  
  
His shoulder was sending waves of agony through his entire body, and despite the fresh spike of adrenaline Leonard felt the fuzziness settle in his head, as if his brain was swaddled in cotton. Slowly, he took a deep breath, then turned around. All eyes were on him, wide-eyed and obviously scared. He knew what they were expecting of him now. He was still in charge and everyone else was looking at him for reassurance, but Leonard seriously doubted that he had the strength left to give them what they needed. Yet despite his injuries, everyone was looking at him for guidance. He had to give them something, at least.  
  
"Listen everyone, the virus is contained to the lab. We're going to test everyone in this room as a precaution, but the lab was locked down before the virus could have gotten out here. Help is going to be here soon, and until they get here I need everyone to stay calm and keep doing their jobs. Nurse Harper, a word please."  
  
Leonard dragged his weary body over towards the nearest hypospray cart. He needed to buy himself time, because he knew that despite the fresh spike of fear and adrenaline the release of the virus had caused, his body was going to let him down soon. He needed to buy himself time at least until he knew more about Megan's and the Admiral's condition.  
  
With his good hand, Leonard started sorting through the hypospray canisters as Nurse Harper stepped up to him.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"We're going to do a blood test on everyone here in Medical, just to make sure nobody got infected before the lab was locked down. If there's an infection, it should be detectable within the next fifteen to thirty minutes. I need you to run those tests, and if despite anything someone is infected, they need to be quarantined in the second lab. We need to contain this as much as we can."  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
Leonard's fingers found the cartridge he was looking for and he pulled it out.  
  
"I need you to load this into a hypospray for me."  
  
Because with only one working arm, he was so useless that he couldn't even do that much on his own. Harper took the cartridge, but as soon as her eyes fell to the label she frowned.  
  
"Doctor…"  
  
"Load it into a hypospray, Nurse Harper. We really don't have any time for discussions."  
  
"This is a stimulant. With the blood loss you suffered…"  
  
"I'm a doctor, I know the risks. But right now I need to function just a little while longer, and for that I need you to load that cartridge into a hypospray for me."  
  
Nurse Harper glared at Leonard for a moment longer, and he already thought she was going to refuse him. Christine most certainly would have. But with a shake of her head, Harper loaded the medication into the hypospray and handed it to him.  
  
"Under protest, doctor."  
  
"Duly noted, Harper," Leonard replied, adjusted the dosage and pressed the spray against his neck. The medication released into his bloodstream with a hiss, and it took only a couple of seconds until he felt the fog around him start to clear a little.  
  
It was a hard-bought effect, and he knew it wasn't going to last for long. Stimulants were good and fine to keep alert and coherent for a little while longer when your body was exhausted. But they also increased the heart-rate, and considering that Leonard's biggest problem was that he had lost a shitload of blood and his blood pressure probably was at a spectacular low-point right now, an increased heart-rate was…not good. Medically speaking, it was irresponsible, dangerous, and bordered on suicide.  
  
But he didn't have any other chance.  
  
It was a little easier to walk in a straight line now, with the stimulant in his bloodstream keeping him going. He only needed to keep his focus, and as long as he didn't stop moving it was going to work out. He only needed a little more time. Jim was on his way. Some more time was all he needed.  
  
Fortunately the two lab rooms were independent from one another, so while one of the rooms was on lockdown, the other was still accessible. Leonard went over into the room he and Megan had been working in the entire time while they had worked with the dead samples of the virus, and he punched his personal code into the keypad securing the storage unit where they were keeping the experimental antivirals they had been working on.  
  
Overachieving competitive bastards that both he and Megan were, they had developed two different antivirals. One was a more general compound designed to stop the virus from spreading. It wasn't a vaccine, far from it, but it had been designed to stop an infection with the virus from spreading before it latched onto the cells and started to cause damage. The second one was even more experimental than the first, the first stage of a treatment once the virus had already spread through the entire system.  
  
The problem was that both antivirals were far from the stage where Leonard felt comfortable injecting them to a living subject. There was no guarantee that the first antiviral was going to help stop an infection from spreading, and even less of a guarantee that the second one wasn't going to cause more damage than it did good. That was why they had planned on spending the next six weeks testing those antivirals on the living virus, on samples of infected blood from various species, before they even thought about trying to inject anyone with the serum.  
  
Another thing they didn't really have a choice about right now. Leonard grabbed the tray with the antivirals from the storage unit and left the lab again. Outside, Nurse Harper was waiting for him, and without a word she took the tray from him and placed it carefully on Megan's desk.  
  
Megan. Right. He needed to check in on her and the Admiral.  
  
She and the Admiral were back from the decontamination showers, both wearing sterile scrubs and masks over their noses and mouths. If one of them was infected, it might help to keep the infection from spreading to the other one, even if it was an eerie reminder that they were fighting against something they couldn't even see. Pressing the comm button, Leonard stepped fully in front of the glass so that the two occupants in the room could see him.  
  
"Megan, Admiral."  
  
Megan's eyes were still wide as she looked at him, but there was something else to her gaze by now. Determination, and something else Leonard couldn't quite place. But before she could get a word in, Admiral Marlow stepped up to the glass, his own eyes wide and his fists hammering against the thick glass.  
  
"Let me out of here right this instant! That's an order!"  
  
Leonard only shook his head. "Medical protocol says I can't do that, Admiral. You've been exposed to a pathogen, and I won't open this door until I know neither of you is posing any danger to the people out here."  
  
"Let me out!" Marlow yelled, fists drumming more vehemently against the opaque surface of the door, but Leonard didn't even consider following this particular order. Stepping slightly to the side so that he could see Megan behind the Admiral, Leonard completely ignored the yelling man.  
  
"Megan, I need blood samples from the both of you, and a complete standard scan."  
  
She nodded. "Okay."  
  
There was a drawer with standard medical equipment in both labs, and she immediately turned around to get a scanner out of it. But despite the determination in her gaze and the steadiness of her hands as she handled the equipment, the fear was still obviously overshadowing all her actions. And Leonard longed to be able to do something about this, to offer any kind of reassurance that this was going to turn out all right, but they both knew it was going to be a lie if he did.  
  
The medical facts spoke a different language entirely.  
  
Megan finished scanning herself quickly, but Marlow was still raging towards the door, banging his hands and demanding to be let out. He was threatening the most dire consequences if he wasn't let out immediately, but all Leonard could think was that the yelling was pounding in his head and made it so impossibly hard to think. He needed to think, needed to figure out how to get these two out of this alive, and he couldn't do that if the Admiral kept screaming and ranting like this.  
  
"Stop it!," he yelled over the comm before his brain even realized what he was doing. "I'm not letting you out of there, so you can as well stop it. Megan, sedate him if you have to, but get me those damn scans now."  
  
Megan nodded tightly, then pulled the Admiral away from the door by his arm. Leonard didn't watch, he turned back towards Megan's desk instead. There was a drawer with the same functions as an airlock in the lab that would allow Megan to transfer the vials with the blood to the main body of Medical without the risk of exposure, but Leonard was realistic enough to know that he wasn't in any condition to handle those samples. Not with only one hand that he was barely able to move without shaking.  
  
"Harper," he said, his voice getting hoarse from exertion as he sat down in Megan's desk chair.  
  
"Yes, Sir?"  
  
"I need you to…to do the analysis on the blood samples. I can't…I need you to do it while I calculate the right dosage."  
  
Harper nodded immediately, for once not making a move to disagree even if that kind of analysis was not amongst her usual tasks. But she had to see that Leonard was in no condition to handle these risky samples, and he in turn knew that she was up to the task, even if it wasn't something she normally did.  
  
Leonard switched on Megan's console. The results of the scans Megan had taken had already been transferred to the console, and he struggled to focus his eyes on the readout. The numbers kept blurring in front of his eyes, though, no matter how much he pinched them shut in an attempt to focus.  
  
Elevated heart-rates, high blood pressure, a whole bunch of readings that were above normal but that could be easily explained away as symptoms of stress, or the result of the fear both Megan and the Admiral had to be going through and the adrenaline that came along with it. But even if one of them was infected, it would take another hour or two for a normal scan to detect it.  
  
No, the reason why Leonard needed those scan results was to see if there was anything in either Megan's or the Admiral's system that would counteract with the antiviral, and he needed their exact weight and other data to calculate the right dosage.  
  
Right.  
  
Easy as that, Leonard.  
  
How much of an untested and experimental antiviral per kilogram of bodyweight? Were this an experiment, he'd start low and up the dosage to record the different results. But this was no experiment. He only got one shot at this, so he'd have to be spot on immediately. And no matter what, it was always going to come down to guesswork. All he had was a certain frame. The dosage couldn't be too low because it had to be effective, and if it ended up being too high, well. Then quite probably the antiviral was going to be what killed Megan and the Admiral, and not the virus.  
  
If either of them was infected in the first place.  
  
Leonard knew he had to make a decision, and normally that was not something he shied away from, even if there were risks involved. But normally he was at his best, and working at full capacity. Right now he was exhausted and in so much pain that even breathing hurt, and despite the stimulant in his system his head was starting to feel fuzzy again.  
  
He needed to focus, damn it. He needed to calculate the right dosage before the walls in his head closed in entirely and he stopped functioning. Yet even as the fingers of his one good hand started to move over the console, doubt started to creep into his mind. He needed to get this right at the first try, but odds were good he was going to screw this up. Should he dare to use the second antiviral if either Megan or the Admiral were infected, even if the danger of side-effects was a lot bigger? Or should he use the less aggressive antiviral and take the risk that it wasn't going to help against the virus at all?  
  
And what dosage to start with? High and risky, or low and possibly ineffective?  
  
Jim wouldn't have these doubts, Leonard knew that. Or rather, Jim would have, of course. He was only human, no matter what he liked to make others believe. He had the same doubts as everyone else. But Jim was the kind of person who didn't let his own doubts get in the way of what needed to be done. Jim analyzed and then he decided, and then he made it work.  
  
Right now, Leonard could really do with some of that talent.  
  
Or just Jim. Just having Jim here would already help a lot. Leonard knew that he was fading fast, despite the stimulant he had injected himself with, and Jim wasn't here.  
  
Jim.  
  
Jim who would know how to handle this mess, and get everyone out safely.  
  
Leonard had only spoken to him last night, but already it seemed like a lifetime ago. And god, how much he missed Jim's voice. Somehow, everything always seemed so much easier and better when Jim was around. A lot brighter, too.  
  
It were his eyes. No matter if it was light or dark, those eyes always seemed to radiate, and just looking into that clear blue was enough to settle Leonard and bring him home, no matter how bad the day had been.  
  
He missed that.  
  
He missed having Jim close to him, seeing those eyes up-close and not through a video-connection. He missed hearing Jim's voice right by his ear, breath fanning over his hair and cheek, and not coming out of a speaker.  
He missed seeing those eyes light up whenever Jim got excited about something. It always felt as if the whole universe shone from them. It was beautiful.  
  
 _"Isn't it beautiful?"  
  
It was breathtaking, but Leonard was sure he and Jim weren't talking about the same thing. Jim was looking out the huge window on the observation deck, his eyes wide in wonder and amazement as he watched, his attention fully focused on the nebula Enterprise was observing.  
  
Leonard had to admit that the birth of a star was a fascinating thing, even if there wasn't much to actually watch. But to Jim that didn't matter. To Jim mattered that he knew how inside that nebula dense clouds were being compressed into rotating gas globules. Neither of them would still be alive by the time a new star system was going to emerge, but to Jim it wasn't about being there to witness it. It was all about knowing that it was going to happen. Looking at this stellar nursery was like looking into the future, and Leonard knew that this was one of the most important things to the man he loved – the knowledge that there was always going to be something new, something unexplored. Jim needed to know that there was a future.  
  
And Leonard could only guess what was going on in Jim's mind as he watched the nebula, but he knew for sure what he himself was thinking as he watched Jim – it was beautiful. Jim was beautiful, breathtaking really, because despite all the crap life had thrown at him, he had never given up hope for the future.  
  
And it never showed more than in moments like this, when Jim was so wrapped up in something going on inside his own head, with the light of the stars was reflecting in his blue eyes as if they were a part of that brilliant spectacle out there. Leonard didn't need to watch the nebula to see how beautiful it was, he only needed to watch Jim to know it.  
  
He never loved Jim more than during those moments when he let everything else drop away and just felt. Leonard didn't want to look away, but the need to touch overrode the need to watch. Wrapping his arms around Jim's waist from behind, he rested his chin on Jim's shoulder, joining him in gazing out into space. And why ever he had once thought that space was nothing but darkness and death when in fact it was so much more, Leonard couldn't understand. There was true beauty in space. And, maybe most importantly, without space, he would have never found Jim.  
  
"Breathtaking," he voiced his earlier thought, and he felt the corner of Jim's mouth tug upwards against the skin of his cheek. He knew then, that Jim knew he wasn't talking about the nebula.  
  
"We should get married."  
  
And Leonard had no idea where that thought came from, and how it had managed to go through his vocal chords and past his lips without ever involving a single conscious thought. It was a thought that would have sent him running in fear not too long ago, but here and now it felt right. Like a destination they had been meant to reach ever since the day they met on that shuttle. Like something that was destined, just like that nebula was destined to give birth to new stars and new life.  
  
Jim stiffened slightly in his hold, and for a second Leonard was worried that it had been the wrong thing to say, and the wrong time to say it, but then he relaxed against Leonard, leaning more strongly into him than before.  
  
"Yeah, we should."  
  
Leonard pressed his lips against the side of Jim's jaw as they stood there together and watched the beginning of something new._  
  
30cc of the first antiviral for Megan, 45cc for the Admiral, based on body weight and metabolism. 15cc of the second antiviral for her, 22cc of it for him.  
  
Was that right? Where had he gotten those numbers from? There was an equation on the screen, and some notes that kept blurring in front of his eyes, but he couldn't make heads nor tails of it. It could mean anything, really. He had to calculate it again, just to make sure. He only needed to find the starting point, the one he had based all his calculations on.  
  
God, how he missed Jim right now. There was no equation Jim couldn't understand, Jim would be able to tell him if this was right or if his pain and drug-befuddled brain had been playing tricks on him. But Jim wasn't here, he was still on his way. Leonard didn't doubt for a second that Jim was on his way, but until he got here, he was all alone.  
  
 _"Are you alone?"  
  
"Jim, we talk every night at the same time, when exactly over the past four weeks haven't I been alone for that?"  
  
The view screen in front of him flashed to life, and it took Leonard a second or two to comprehend that not only was he looking at his husband like he did every night, he was looking at all of Jim this time. Lying on their bed (and Leonard didn't want to know how he had managed to angle the vid-screen camera into exactly that position). Flushed. Naked. Aroused.  
  
As most of his blood did a spontaneous dive south, Leonard's mouth managed to stutter out a few barely comprehensible and probably not really coherent words.  
  
"Jim…what the…we talked about this…"  
  
Not on a video feed, no matter how much Leonard missed having Jim close to him. Not through an unsafe connection where everyone with more than average hacking skills could listen (and look) in on them if they wanted to. But Jim had never listened to valid reasons and reasonable arguments, and as a result he lay there now in all his naked glory – and it was good to finally see Jim like that again, even if it came along with the painful realization that he could look, but not touch.  
  
"I miss you, Bones. I miss feeling you."  
  
Leonard was fairly sure that his mouth was gaping open as Jim ran his hands down his chest, pausing to tease one of his nipples before he slid his hands farther and farther down. And despite all his objections, Leonard couldn't help but watch, couldn't stop his own hands from going for the button of his pants as he watched Jim take a hold of himself, those sinful lips parted with just a tease of his tongue peeking out.  
  
He longed to touch Jim, longed to be able to feel, taste and smell him, and even though he needed at least a couple more drinks to fully agree to this, Jim was more intoxicating than any alcohol could ever be. Leonard knew he had consented to this the moment he had first caught sight of Jim naked on that bed, and if he already did participate in this madness, he could as well surrender himself completely. It was still two more months until he was going to see Jim again, after all, and he had to tide himself over somehow.  
  
"Jim."_  
  
"He's not here, Doctor."  
  
There was a touch to his arm and as Leonard blinked he found Nurse Harper bent towards his chair, a PADD in her hand. He must have drifted off, and damn it if that wasn't a really bad sign. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, he tried to get the room into a clearer focus. Harper was still hovering beside him, PADD clutched tightly in her hand and her face drawn in a way that suggested bad news.  
  
"Harper, could you look over these and tell me if they make sense?"  
  
He gestured towards the dosages he had calculated, and though Harper looked surprised, she turned towards the screen and read through the equation Leonard had written down. He hated this, hated that things which normally came as easy to him as breathing were something he had to have checked through by someone else. But he couldn't screw this up.  
  
Harper finished reading after a moment and leaned back.  
  
"If the initial value for the dosage per kg is right, then yes."  
  
And that initial value was Leonard's biggest guess in this whole mess, but without any tests or experiments to base his assumptions on, it was all he could do.  
  
"I have the results of the blood tests," Harper said, consulting her PADD even though Leonard was sure she didn't need to. And judged by the expression on her face, it wasn't good news.  
  
"Both of them?"  
  
She shook her head. "The Admiral's blood is showing no signs of infection so far, but the analysis shows early signs of infection in Doctor Parker's blood."  
  
The doctor in him took in those facts, but the human beneath all that couldn't help but fell that it was unfair, and judged by how the guilt was spread out in this whole mess the result should have been the other way around. But he was a doctor above all, and now at least he had something definite to deal with.  
  
Moving was difficult and required and amount of coordination Leonard didn't have right now, but somehow he struggled to his feet. Harper put down the PADD and the next time Leonard looked was holding two hyposprays in her hand.  
  
"Shall I load the dosages?"  
  
There was no other choice, seeing that Leonard could hardly do it with just one hand. So this was his last chance to change something about the dosages. The last chance to reconsider if his approach was right. If he had any doubts, now was the time to act upon them.  
  
But the problem was that he had only doubts, and no way to tell what was right and what was wrong. All he had was his gut feeling that had led him to his initial calculations, and so he was going to have to rely on that.  
  
The Admiral didn't show signs of infection, but Megan did. So it was 45cc of the first antiviral for him, and 15cc of the second one for her. He made up his mind about it, and drawing a deep breath he told Harper to load the dosages.  
  
His vision was growing grey and fuzzy around the edges as he stumbled rather than walked over towards the door of the lab. Megan was sitting on one of the chairs while the Admiral paced up and down the small room. As she saw Leonard approach, Megan got up from her seat. Leonard tried to keep his face blank, but the moment Megan looked up at him her eyes widened, and he knew she could already tell what kind of news he was about to deliver.  
  
He pressed the comm button beside the door.  
  
"How are you holding up?"  
  
"I'd say better than you. Damn Leonard, you need to…"  
  
"You're infected," Leonard said, because there was no way to sugarcoat this. "The Admiral shows no sign of infection as of now, but we can't say for sure that it means he is free of the virus."  
  
Megan tried to hold up the brave front, but Leonard could see how she paled and how her hands started to tremble slightly. He gave her a moment to compose herself, but they didn't have any time to spare. He didn't have time to spare.  
  
"I'm going to send in two hyposprays. We have no other choice but to try the antiviral."  
  
Megan nodded. "Which serum?" Her voice was trembling, but Leonard knew better than to mention it.  
  
"Both. The Admiral is getting the prophylactic, you'll be getting a dosage of the second one." He swallowed against his suddenly tight throat. "Megan, tell me if I'm screwing this up."  
  
She shook her head, surreptitiously wiping a hand across her eyes. "No. No, it makes sense. I…I simply would have liked to test the serum first. You know, on someone other than me."  
  
It was fake cheer and levity, and it left Leonard feeling hollow inside. From the corner of his eye, Leonard saw Harper put the hyposprays into the drawer and close it. The mechanism hissed as it locked airtight and enabled Megan to open the drawer from the inside.  
  
Leonard thought he had to say something. He felt he needed to say something, anything to make this bearable, to reassure Megan that things were going to be all right. But Megan was a doctor just like him, and she knew as well as he did what that diagnosis meant for her. There was no way to reassure, no words to make this any better, and even if there had been Leonard's mind was dizzy with too much pain to come up with it.  
  
He could only watch as Megan injected first the Admiral, then herself with the experimental antiviral.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
He hadn't pressed the comm button, so there was no way Megan could have heard him. And maybe it was for the better, because it sounded too much like saying goodbye.  
  
Leonard turned away from the lab, his eyes seeking out Nurse Harper. His hand was clutching the edge of the nearest examination table tightly as the nurse came over towards him.  
  
"Doctor, you really need to sit down and let me look after your arm."  
  
Leonard shook his head.  
  
"The Admiral. Have Megan do another blood test in half an hour. If he's infected, switch to the second antiviral. Dosages are on the console. Check everyone here in Medical, too." His tongue was growing heavy, making it so hard to talk, and he felt breathless. But he had to say these things, no matter how hard it was.  
"If anyone's infected, quarantine them. In the second lab. Once help arrives, let nobody in there who's not suited up." He looked up at her, knowing fully well the enormity of what he was going to burden her with next. "Just keep everyone alive, Harper. Check how much breathable air's left. And only…when oxygen gets critical, you need to end the biohazard lockdown. Klingons or not. Air…air is more important. Help should be here before that, but just…just in case."  
  
Harper shook her head, trying to gently steer Leonard over to the nearest biobed.  
  
"Doctor, I can't lift the biohazard alert and you know that. I don't have the authorization, and you really need to lie down now and take it easy for a while."  
  
Leonard's heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he was starting to feel lightheaded. He wasn't going to make it to the biobed, and Nurse Harper most certainly wasn't going to be able to drag him there.  
  
"Computer, make note in the official log that…Chief Medical Officer Parker is in quarantine and Lieutenant Valdez is MIA. Due to my own injuries I transfer all authority to Lieutenant Lynn Harper. Authorization McCoy, Beta-4-4-2-Delta."  
  
The computer beeped in acknowledgement, and Leonard allowed himself to feel a small moment of relief. Medical needed someone authorized to make decisions, he had to make sure of that. Despite Harper's protests. He knew she was protesting, even if he didn't understand a word of what she was saying.  
  
Leonard had forced his body to run on borrowed time for far too long, and now he had nothing let to fight against the darkness he was spiraling towards. He heard Harper's voice in his ear, heard how her voice was growing louder and more agitated, but he just couldn't focus on the words. Her grip around him tightened, and something jostled his injured shoulder.  
  
The pain was blinding, and the last thing Leonard was really aware of was the sight of the floor rushing towards him, then even worse pain.  
  
Then darkness.  
  
It wasn't absolute. At first it seemed complete, all encompassing, but he could still feel the pain running through him, hot and blinding. He thought he could hear voices, too. Loud voices, screams and yells, though they felt strangely muffled, very distant and faint one moment, closer the next, like waves.  
  
He didn't know who was talking, who was screaming, but he couldn't open his eyes to find out what was going on. He was drifting, floating ever closer to the absolute darkness, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.  
  
He felt a touch to his hand, but it took him long moments to realize that it was no comforting touch. Someone was twisting his finger, shifting his injured arm with the movement and making the pain so much worse. But it was even worse once he realized what was happening, that someone was trying to pull his wedding ring off his finger. Though Leonard couldn't understand why any Klingon would be interested in a small circle of silver, he wasn't going to give it up without a fight. It was his ring, and he hadn't taken it off once since Jim had put it there. They couldn't have it. Nobody could. It was his.  
  
But he could barely feel his hand, and when he tried to curl in his fingers, tried to make a fist to stop whoever was trying to get to his ring, the pain flared from his hand all the way up to his shoulder, and this time, Leonard could not fight it.  
  
This time, the darkness was all-encompassing.


	12. Coda - The Other Side of the Coin II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was only one thought on Jim's mind. Three words that he kept repeating over and over in his head, like a mantra. And maybe, if he only thought the words often enough and fiercely enough, they were going to become true. It were just three words, but they encompassed the only thing that was important in his life right now.  
> Please be okay.
> 
> The second interlude from Jim's perspective.

The firefight had been blessedly short, something Jim was eternally grateful for. Klingons didn't tuck in their tails and fled even if their own ship was already damaged from the previous firefight with the station, and Enterprise had the element of surprise on their side as they dropped out of warp an immediately launched an attack on the Klingons.  
  
The Birds of Prey had sustained previous damage, and they stood no chance against Enterprise. But all that hadn't mattered to Jim as he stood in the transporter room, waiting for the all clear signal to beam down to the station. Because only one Bird of Prey was circling the station as they dropped out of warp. The other one was docked at the station, and that meant the Braga IV Outpost had been boarded.  
  
And Jim was on the first away team that beamed down onto the station, just like he had told Spock he wanted to be. Because that meddling, scheming and damn _literal_ bastard of a Vulcan had known exactly what he was doing by assigning Jim to the very first away team to board the station – the team that was supposed to secure the vital parts of the station. Ops, Tactical, Engineering.  
  
The away team Spock had assigned Jim to wasn't even going to get anywhere near Medical, and Jim was sure Spock had been very aware of that fact. And Jim couldn't even throttle his scheming First Officer, because Spock had only done what Jim had asked of him – he had put him on the first team to beam down.  
  
The Outpost was without communications, and Enterprise's sensors read 34 Klingon life signs spread out through the station. 32 now, after Jim's team ran into two of them on their way towards Ops, and Jim didn't regret his decision to shoot immediately, without asking questions. Those were Klingons, and they would do the same. It was only a question of who managed to pull the trigger first. To Jim it meant there were now two Klingons less aboard the station who could possibly harm Bones.  
  
They found Ops locked – standard protocol during intruder alert – and Jim gestured for the other members of his team – Sulu and three Lieutenants from Security, to steer clear of the door as he punched a universal override into the keypad next to the door. It didn't help to open the door any, but Jim hadn't expected that. What he wanted was for the people inside Ops to know that someone was trying to get in, and that the person trying to do so was a member of Starfleet.  
  
Just a few seconds later, the door to Ops swished open, and Jim found himself looking into the business end of a phaser pointed right at him.  
  
"James T. Kirk, USS Enterprise," he immediately said, deliberately avoiding the title that claimed an authority he didn't have right now. It was enough though. After just a moment of hesitation, Jim and his team were ushered directly into Ops.  
  
Ops looked…pretty much like the Bridge on Enterprise did after a particularly heavy firefight. There was no direct damage, but a cursory sweep showed Jim a lot of non-functioning consoles, broken displays and overloaded outlets that still sparked and smoked slightly. The command chair was empty, but a group of people were conferring near what Jim assumed to be the science station. One of the men had a bandage wrapped around his head, a patch of it on his forehead soaked with fresh blood. Upon their entry, one man detached himself from the group and came over towards them. The stripes on his shirt immediately identified him as Captain Bartlett, even before he had introduced himself. Jim stepped towards him.  
  
"Captain Bartlett, James Kirk, USS Enterprise."  
  
Bartlett, a tough looking middle-aged man, actually managed to look relieved at the introduction.  
  
"Captain Kirk." Jim didn't correct him for now. They had other things to worry about than the question as to whether Jim was in charge or not. "Glad you could make it."  
  
"We would have asked for permission to come aboard, but none of Enterprise's hails went through. What's the situation?"  
  
Bartlett shook his head as if he didn't even know where to begin.  
  
"We're pretty much blind and deaf, and completely locked up ever since we've been boarded. Our long-range receivers were amongst the first things to go, but our comms system received some damage. For a while we were able to hold up communications, but for a little more than an hour all communication has been down. Same goes for our sensors – I have no idea which readings are still reliable and which aren't. All stations are on intruder lockdown, but without communications…"  
  
He threw his hands into the air somewhat helplessly. "All I know is that I have a station boarded by Klingons and no damn way to communicate with my people. We've been using maintenance shafts and air vents to at least try and get a glimpse of what's going on in the station, but I don't have enough people to spare to send them everywhere they're needed."  
  
Looking around, Jim found that Ops was currently manned with five officers, which had to border on the absolute minimum for a command station of this size.  
  
"Maybe we can help with that, Sir." Pulling his handheld communicator out of his pocket, Jim hailed Enterprise.  
  
"Kirk to Uhura."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Is there any way you can relay the station's internal communications through Enterprise's comm system? Their own system is down entirely."  
  
Uhura was silent for a second before she answered. "Not immediately. I need to analyze the damage first, if their receivers are defective there's not much I can do without manual repairs. But if they grant me access to their transponder frequencies, I'll see what I can do to get at least emergency communications reestablished."  
  
Bartlett had been listening in, and with a nod he sent one of his officers scrambling over towards the communications console where he started typing furiously.  
  
"You should be given access to their systems now. Keep me updated, Lieutenant," Jim said into the communicator and closed it shut right after Uhura's quick "Yes, Sir."  
  
"If it's at all possible, Lieutenant Uhura is going to reestablish communications aboard the station, Captain."  
  
Bartlett ran his hands through his hair with a nod. "Good. What about the Klingons?"  
  
"One Bird of Prey was destroyed, the other that's docked to the station has been disabled. But there are still the Klingons who boarded the station to consider." Jim flipped his communicator open again.  
  
"Kirk to Commander Spock. Ops is secured."  
  
"Understood. Deck D and E are secured as well. Two teams are proceeding towards Medical and the Science Department as we speak."  
  
Jim was startled when Bartlett practically ripped his communicator out of his hand.  
  
"This is Captain Bartlett. Commander, you won't be getting into Medical that easily. It's on biohazard lockdown."  
  
The floor dropped out from beneath Jim's feet.  
  
 _Biohazard lockdown._  
  
Medical was on biohazard lockdown. Bones was in Medical, along with that goddamn virus. And the only damn reason why someone would put Medical on lockdown was if the virus had been set free.  
  
Bones…  
  
 _Please be okay._  
  
"What happened?" He rasped out, barely recognizing his voice as his own. "Was the virus set free?"  
  
Bartlett shook his head and shrugged at the same time.  
  
"I don't know, Captain. Our system readings are anything but reliable, and our communications system was already gone and the lockdown effectively sealed off all ways into Medical. Including the airshafts and the maintenance system. So I have no idea what the hell happened. But in his last communication, Doctor McCoy said the virus samples weren't even in Medical."  
  
A low buzzing started up in Jim's head as he tried to make sense of the words. His throat tightened up so that it got hard to breathe.  
  
"What do you mean? Why would Medical go on biohazard lockdown if the virus isn't even there?"  
  
"Captain Kirk, I have no idea what the hell is going on here anymore, but Doctor McCoy said the virus wasn't in Medical. He said that there had been a switch up, and to secure the cargo hold. Doctor Parker was treating Lieutenant Miller here in Ops at that time, and during the next contact with Medical she was told that Doctor McCoy had left Medical Bay to retrieve the virus samples. She used the maintenance shafts to get back to Medical, but our comms went down before we could confirm that she had even arrived there. So I have no idea where the virus samples are at this point. Hell, I have no idea where the doctors under my command are right now."  
  
Something in Jim's chest tightened so much that it hurt.  
  
"Doctor McCoy went into the cargo hold?"  
  
Bartlett nodded. "Yes. I have no reason to doubt that the virus samples really ended up there, though I have no idea how it happened. About an hour later Medical went to biohazard lockdown, but I cannot tell you if it was because of the virus or for some other reason entirely. I sent a security team to the cargo hold, but they didn't check in again. Until now we had enough to do with defending critical stations from being taken over, but now I'd say we better find out what happened to those virus samples."  
  
Jim found himself nodding, even though his mind was far from worrying about where those damn virus samples had ended up. All he wanted to know was where Bones was. Medical was comparatively safe during an attack, but Bones had left that safety, and nobody had heard from him since.  
  
He needed to find Bones, and if anybody had dared to hurt him…  
  
He needed to find Bones.  
  
Without thinking, he raised his communicator again.  
  
"Spock, I'm leaving two officers here to help secure Ops and get started on the vital repairs, then I'm taking the rest of the team down to the cargo hold. There's a chance that the virus samples never made it to Medical. We're going to secure them if we can."  
  
"Understood. I will send another team to assist you. Report back with your findings. Spock out."  
  
It was unusual that a Commander would give his Captain an order like this, and the distant part of Jim's brain that wasn't focused on _Bones, Bones, Bones_ was aware of that. Bartlett looked at Jim curiously, but Jim shrugged him off. There was no time for this now.  
  
"I relinquished command to Commander Spock. Doctor McCoy and I are…"  
  
"Married, I know. Let's go to the cargo hold. I'm coming with you."  
  
Jim was about to disagree, but Bartlett only shook his head at him, his weary expression overlaid with new determination. "That is not up for discussion. Ops can be secured, but I need to know what the hell is going on in my station. I'm coming with you and that's my final word on it."  
  
Jim wasn't going to fight him on this. He wasn't going to waste time when he should be on his way to find Bones. He nodded at Sulu and Lieutenant Matthews to come with them, and they were out the door.  
  
"If your people are right and D-deck is secure, our way should be clear."  
  
Jim didn't care about that as they hurried down the corridors, his phaser gripped tightly in his hand. He didn't care if a whole armada of Klingons was about to stand in his way. Jim was on his way to find his husband, and everyone who dared to step in the way of that was expendable.  
  
Spock had been right, Jim thought, even though he didn't want to admit to it. But Spock had known that Jim wasn't going to be able to keep a clear head, not when it was about Bones. Not when Bones could possibly be hurt or worse, and Jim was reduced to thinking nothing but that he had to be all right.  
  
There was only one thought on Jim's mind. Three words that he kept repeating over and over in his head, like a mantra. And maybe, if he only thought the words often enough and fiercely enough, they were going to become true. It were just three words, but they encompassed the only thing that was important in his life right now.  
  
 _Please be okay._  
  
Because if Bones wasn't okay…  
  
Jim didn't know what he'd do. He had to be okay, and once Jim made sure of that, he was going to have a serious conversation with his husband about how incredibly _stupid_ it was to leave the safety of Medical to run around in a space station filled with Klingons. Stupid, and risky, and not something Bones was ever going to do again if Jim had any say in it.  
  
The team Spock had sent was waiting for them at the entrance of the cargo hold, two officers of Enterprise's security team with three more waiting inside. They stood to attention as Jim approached.  
  
"Cargo hold is secure, Sir, as is docking bay. Enterprise reports no signs of any pathogens showing up on their scans."  
  
"Thank you, Lieutenant."  
  
And that was another thing that didn't make sense – Medical was on biohazard lockdown even though the virus hadn't ended up there initially, but scans showed that the virus hadn't been set free anywhere else in the station. It…it just didn't make sense.  
  
Nothing in this whole fucking mess made any sense, and the only thing Jim could think was that he needed to find Bones. With Bones around, everything always seemed to make more sense.  
  
Bartlett was first to step into the cargo hold, but Jim was directly at his heels. Inside, the Captain stopped abruptly, so unexpectedly that Jim nearly ran into him.  
  
"What the hell…?"  
  
Jim had to agree. The cargo hold was a mess. There didn't seem to be a single transport crate that hadn't been broken open, and containers and goods were thrown everywhere. The only semblance of order seemed to be in the pile of goods that were stacked up against one of the walls. Those Klingons had been searching for something, and they had been prepared to steal as many useful items along the way as they could.  
  
"Captain, we found bodies!"  
  
The call had been for Bartlett, but Jim barely realized it. His heart gave an almost painful lurch in his chest and his feet started moving automatically, running over to the direction the call had come from. Two of the security officers were standing by a crate near the back of the cargo hold, looking down at something that was blocked from Jim's view. Jim moved faster, heart pounding furiously now.  
  
 _Please be okay.  
  
Please don't let it be Bones.  
  
Please be okay._   
  
He wanted to see, _needed_ to see those bodies to convince himself that Bones wasn't amongst them, and at the same time he didn't want to see because he was so horribly afraid that Bones was…  
  
A blue shirt. The fist thing Jim saw as he rounded the crate was a blue shirt, and his heart stopped in his chest.  
  
No.  
  
His vision swam as he went down on his knees, the only thing he was really able to focus on properly the bright blue of the Science uniform shirt the body in front of him was wearing. He didn't pay any mind to the security officer beside him, or the three other bodies that had to be the security team Bartlett had sent to the cargo hold. He didn't know if he was still breathing, and distantly he heard the sound of someone talking to him over the roaring in his ears, but it was so hard to focus. He blinked furiously, trying to get his eyes to focus on something other than the blue shirt in front of him that was scorched from where the phaser shot had impacted near the shoulder.  
  
 _Please…_  
  
Not Bones. Anything, but please…not this.  
  
"Captain?"  
  
It was Lieutenant Matthew's voice, and Jim drew his first conscious breath in what felt like minutes as the man shook his shoulder roughly. He must have been doing so for a while already, and his mouth was moving, but only as Jim forced himself to focus really hard could he understand the man's words.  
  
"It's not Doctor McCoy, Captain. Do you hear me? It's not Doctor McCoy."  
  
Jim nodded, numbly, but still it took a few seconds longer until he dared to take a closer look. Blue shirt and dark hair, those were the obvious similarities. But the build was wrong, and as Jim shifted slightly to get a better look at the man's face, he saw immediately that it wasn't Bones. It was so obviously _not_ Bones that Jim asked himself how he could have thought for just a second that it was.  
  
The relief was so overpowering, Jim's legs felt weak as he straightened up and took a few steps back, drawing deep breaths to stop his head from swimming. It was embarrassing that he had lost it like that in front of members of his crew. But Lieutenant Matthews hadn't released his grip on Jim's arm entirely, and kept hovering beside him as if he was worried Jim was going to keel over any second.  
  
"Are you all right, Sir?"  
  
Jim nearly laughed, because he suddenly couldn't help thinking that this was _Cupcake_ , for crying out loud, and considering how they had met all those years ago, that question was so insane that the only possible answer to it was to laugh. But instead of laughing, he shook his head.  
  
"I'm…it's okay, Lieutenant. Thank you."  
  
It wasn't okay. In fact, it was far from okay, and wasn't going to be until he finally found Bones.  
  
"That's Doctor Valdez."  
  
Jim was startled at Bartlett's soft words. "One of your doctors?"  
  
Bartlett nodded. "The third doctor serving in Medical Bay, yes. And Lieutenant K'Tar and the security team I sent to the cargo hold." He shook his head and turned away, the stricken expression on his face turning to anger. "Damn it."  
  
Jim was still feeling weak-kneed at the memory of the dread he had felt during the second he had believed that Bones could be dead. And he felt for Bartlett, because he knew that losing crewmembers like that hurt, but he didn't have the capacities left to really sympathize to what the other Captain was feeling right now. If anything, the urgency Jim felt grew even worse. He needed to find out what had happened here, and most of all he needed to find his husband.  
  
With new determination, Jim stepped away from the bodies and tried to bring his mind into some semblance of order. The dead crewmen had been shot and then just discarded, which meant the Klingons had still been searching for whatever they had been looking for and the bodies had been in the way.  
  
But what? What the hell had those Klingons been searching for? The virus? It made sense, which was a first during the last couple of hours. If the virus had ended up here instead of Medical, and if the Klingons had been after it, then it made sense they'd break open all transport containers in search for it. But how the hell had they known that the virus was here?  
  
Jim was barely aware that he was moving, but he was hurrying through the vast room, eyes straying over the chaotic mess the Klingons had left in a desperate attempt to figure out what had happened, and where the hell that virus had ended up. Somehow, he had the feeling that once he found it, Bones wasn't going to be far away.  
  
Another spike of adrenaline shot through him when he realized that amongst the goods the Klingons had stacked up against the wall were medical supplies. If those had been in the same container as the virus, it had to be around somewhere.  
  
There were numerous containers with the medical seal, but all Jim could see were hypospray cartridges, boxes with sterilized bandages, and other assorted stuff he didn't have any clue about. But no big box that said _Caution! Virus_ on it in bold red letters, because of course that would have been too damn easy.  
  
There!  
  
Near the end of the stack stood an open transport container. Jim hurried over and took a closer look. There was no need for the Klingons to take an open and apparently empty container, so that meant something had been in it by the time it had been put here, and someone else had opened it and taken out its contents at a later point. Even Spock wasn't going to find any fault in that logic.  
  
The box was laid out with a Styrofoam-like filling, with indentations cut out to carry vials. Jim had no idea what exactly the label on the outside of the box said, but not even he was ignorant enough to ignore the glaring warning and biohazard signs that were etched to the outside of the box. And if that wasn't enough, the electronic keypad on the lock would have been a dead giveaway.  
  
"I found the container!", he called, and a few seconds later Captain Bartlett stepped up to him.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Jim turned the container so that the other man could see the keypad and the warning signs on the outside of the box. That the container was empty didn't need any further pointing out, that was obvious at first sight. Bartlett ran a hand over his face with a sigh.  
  
"Damn."  
  
"Who has authorization to open that container?"  
  
Bartlett shook his head. "As CO, I do. Else only the senior medical officers, Doctors Parker, McCoy and Valdez."  
  
And the lock had been opened, not cracked. Which meant someone with authorization had done it. Bartlett had been in Ops for the entire time, Valdez was dead, and Parker had never been anywhere near the cargo hold. Of course there was still the chance that Valdez had removed the virus and someone had taken it from him after his death, but somehow, Jim got the sinking feeling that wasn't the case.  
  
Bones had gone to the cargo hold to get the virus, and someone with medical clearance had opened this container and removed the virus samples. It made sense, even if it was a terrifying thought.  
  
Jim shot to his feet again, trying to retrace Bones' steps. He must have been hiding behind the stacked row of goods while he had emptied the container, but where had he gone after that?  
  
"Captain, you said your people were using the maintenance shafts to get around the station, right?"  
  
Bartlett nodded. "Yes, as far as we could at least."  
  
"Where's the access panel someone would use if they were coming from Medical?"  
  
Bartlett pointed straight across the vast room at the opposite wall. "Over there. That's the closest access point on the way to Medical."  
  
And to get there, Bones would have had to leave cover more than once. It was a huge risk especially if there had been Klingons in the cargo hold at the same time, but Jim knew that if he had been desperate enough, Bones would have done it. Eyes roaming left and right, trying to see what Bones must have seen, Jim tried to retrace his husband's steps. Bartlett fell into step beside him, and as they were halfway across the room, he pointed to their left.  
  
"There's two dead Klingons over there."  
  
That sentence stopped Jim short and he looked into the direction the other Captain had indicated. Just as he thought things were starting to make sense, Bartlett had to tell him that.  
  
Of course Bones could defend himself if there was the need to. Jim had made sure Bones knew how to, above and beyond the basic self defense training Starfleet thought medical personnel needed. But Bones was all about saving lives, not ending them. He didn't kill. Didn't believe in it, as if it was a religious phenomenon that was going to vanish if people just followed his example and stopped believing. But Jim understood where it came from, that his husband had fought too often to try and undo the damage others had done in an attempt to kill. It wasn't Bones way of dealing with things, even enemies. Not if it could be avoided, in any case. In all their years together, Jim had seen him use a weapon only a number of times, and only in the most dire situations.  
  
"How did they die?"  
  
"Looks like they were shot with a disruptor, maybe a phaser."  
  
God, this was getting steadily worse. And apparently they hadn't reached the end of it yet, because another member of the security team was waiting for them by the wall they were heading towards, a strange expression on his face.  
  
"There's another dead Klingon here, Sir. And…blood. Quite a lot of it."  
  
Jim didn't care what it had to look like, he started running. There was another crate standing in front of the wall, and as he rounded it, his steps came to an abrupt halt. There was indeed a dead Klingon lying on the ground, his face etched into a perpetual snarl in death. But what brought Jim to this abrupt halt and made his stomach churn was the puddle of blood the Klingon was lying in. Red blood, not at all like the purple-pinkish hue of Klingon blood.  
  
Human blood.  
  
The Klingon was clutching a knife, and though it seemed like a ridiculous thought, Jim's brain immediately supplied him with the information that it was a D'k tahg, a traditional Klingon warrior blade. A vicious, sharp and long blade that could cause a lot of damage. One that _had_ caused a lot of damage here, though there was no second body to go along with all the blood.  
  
The blade was covered in blood, as was the Klingon's body, as if the victim of his knife had fallen atop of him and just kept lying there for a while. But there were clear traces in the blood that spoke of what had happened after the fight. There were footprints in the blood, bloody boot prints that led over towards the wall in a shaky line. There were more blood smears against the wall, at about Jim's shoulder height. But what made the breath catch in Jim's throat was the bloody handprint next to the wall panel that was marked as the access to the maintenance system.  
  
Jim didn't speculate. He didn't draw conclusions unless he had proof. And he wasn't going to assume that Bones was hurt – or worse, maybe, horribly even worse – unless he saw proof of that with his own eyes. But it all made so much sense – the size of the boot prints, the height of the blood smears against the wall, the size of the handprint.  
  
A broad, long-fingered hand, just like the one that curled around Jim's hip or splayed across his stomach at night. Just like Bones' hand. But he wasn't going to think like that. Not until he had found Bones.  
  
Jim didn't know how his legs remained steady as he walked the few remaining steps towards the wall panel and activated the release. The panel slid aside with a low hiss of deploying hydraulics, allowing Jim to look into the maintenance shaft.  
  
More blood.  
  
God, there was even more blood inside the maintenance shaft, smears of it on the floor and against one wall, as if someone had been leaning against it for a longer time. And there was a literal trail of blood, though less than out here on the ground. But still, there were clear traces of where someone had moved along the corridor, some smeared drops of blood on the ground here, a few smears against the wall there. Easy to follow, and Jim hoped and prayed that no Klingon had been around to do so.  
  
He needed to get to Medical and find out if Bones had gotten back.  
  
Right the fuck now.  
  
Jim crawled back out of the maintenance shaft and turned towards Matthews.  
  
"Lieutenant, take Baxter and follow the blood trail. We need to make sure that whoever fled that way didn't collapse halfway to where they wanted to get."  
  
Matthews nodded immediately. "Of course, Sir."  
  
Jim pulled out his communicator. "Kirk to Spock. The cargo hold and docking bay are secured. There are casualties here."  
  
"Understood." Spock's voice sounded as calm and detached as ever, and for the first time since he had known the Vulcan, Jim found himself hating him for it. Maybe for his lack of feelings, or maybe for his ability to detach from what he was feeling, Jim didn't know. But the surge of unanimous feelings towards his First Officer was unexpected and scared him a little.  
  
"All decks are secured." Spock continued. "Ensign Chekov assures me that Enterprise's sensors read no further Klingon life signs aboard the station."  
  
And while that was a relief, it wasn't the information Jim wanted to hear right now. Clenching his hand just a bit tighter around the communicator, he drew a deep breath.  
  
"What's the situation in Medical, Spock?"  
  
There was a pause. Barely a second, but a second's pause by Spock was more than enough for Jim to know that something was wrong. Seriously, seriously wrong.  
  
"Spock?"  
  
"The biohazard lockdown has been lifted and we have been able to access Medical Bay. Apparently, the virus was released, but the contamination is contained to one of the laboratories, which is on a separate lockdown. Doctor Martinez is working on the proper protocols to evacuate the people inside the laboratory to Enterprise without risking that the virus spreads any further."  
  
Throwing out the technicalities was the Vulcan way of babbling. And it made no sense that Martinez should be worrying about evacuation of the infected patients, not when Jim knew for a fact that M'Benga had been part of the first medical response team, and it was M'Benga's damn job as temporary CMO to take care of that.  
  
"Where's Doctor M'Benga, Spock?"  
  
"He beamed back aboard Enterprise with two patients who were in critical condition and needed immediate treatment."  
  
Jim knew. Somewhere, deep down inside, in the part of his heart he had long ago given to Bones, he knew. But still he needed to ask. It should have been his first question, and he knew that Spock was expecting it, even if he didn't volunteer the information himself.  
  
"Spock, where's Bones?"  
  
Another second of deliberation.  
  
"Doctor McCoy was beamed back aboard Enterprise under Doctor M'Benga's medical supervision approximately three minutes ago."  
  
Jim let the communicator sink down, his head suddenly empty.  
  
Bones…  
  
Critical condition.  
  
In need of immediate medical treatment.  
  
And Spock that bastard hadn't immediately commed Jim the second they had found Bones. The…the _bastard_. Oh, Jim was sure that Spock had his hands full in Medical, but right now he didn't give a damn.  
  
Bones was hurt. Badly hurt.  
  
Nothing else mattered.  
  
He just…he needed to get to Bones. Right now.  
  
A touch to his arm startled him, and Sulu actually took a step back as Jim spun around towards him.  
  
"We got this, Captain. You heard the Commander, the station is secure for now. Beam back aboard, I'll take over from here."  
  
Jim hated to just hand things off like that. He hated to start something and leave in the middle of it, to leave his crew to deal with the fallout, but this was about Bones. He wasn't going to be able to think about anything else right now, anyway. He nodded gratefully at his helmsman, then raised his communicator again.  
  
"Kirk to Enterprise. One to beam up."  
  
"Aye, Captain," Scotty's voice answered with none of its usual cheerfulness. At the same time, he didn't sound surprised that Jim wanted to be beamed back aboard, either.  
  
"We got it, Sir." Sulu repeated, and as the room began to dissolve around him Jim felt a quick flash of gratitude for his crew, and for the fact that they stepped in for him without asking. Then the cargo hold vanished and Jim found himself on the transporter pad back aboard Enterprise, a nurse with a tricorder at the ready right in front of him.  
  
"No sign of contamination, Sir," she said without turning away from her tricorder readings, and a second later the force field separating the pad from the rest of the Transporter Room was disengaged. Jim started running, for once not caring that the sight of their Captain running was always something that put a crew on alert. But those who were around now must have seen M'Benga transport Bones back aboard, so they had to know why Jim was running. In passing, he caught a fleeting glance at Scotty, and the look his Chief Engineer was giving him said it all. Scotty must have seen Bones, and it must have been bad if Scotty looked at him like that.  
  
Jim ran.  
  
Medical was on the same deck as the Transporter Room, and it wasn't a far distance. To Jim, it seemed endless until he finally reached the double doors that slid open at his approach. He had to make quite a picture, panting, flushed and wide-eyed, panic written clearly on his face, but he didn't care. All he cared about, all that mattered to him, was to finally find Bones.  
  
Medical was in motion, the way it always was during a crisis, with nurses and crewmembers bustling everywhere with determination in their steps and actions. It was the kind of commotion that followed a plan and a strict set of rules, where everyone was exactly where they were needed. Bones was proud of the way his medical team functioned in these situations, but right now it seemed like an impenetrable chaos to Jim's searching eyes.  
  
He tried to seek out M'Benga, tried to hear the doctor's deep sonorous voice over the cacophony of words and sounds, but all he heard was the piercing wail of an alarm somewhere to his right. As he turned, he finally caught sight of M'Benga, bent over one of the beds, the fabric of his blue uniform shirt pulling taut over his back as his arms and hands moved efficiently over his patient.  
  
Jim stepped closer, drawn to the bed as if by some invisible force, even though he didn't want to face the reality of the shrill and piercing alarm, the hectic pace of the activities around the bed .  
  
"BP's still going down," one of the nurses said as she reached for something on the instrument table.  
  
"Get him in the OR, stat. We need to get that bleeding fixed before all else."  
  
And only as the gurney was wheeled away into the operating room did Jim catch a glimpse of Bones' face, pale and motionless as he was wheeled out of sight. And Jim had known, he had known that Bones was hurt, but seeing it like that was different. It cut off his air and made his whole body go numb. And suddenly, the feeble hope that had been keeping Jim upright for the past hours, that continuous mental whisper of _please be okay_ no longer helped. Bones wasn't okay. He was pretty damn far from being okay, and if M'Benga couldn't fix him…  
  
"Doc!"  
  
M'Benga turned around at his call, and just like Scotty he didn't seem surprised to see Jim back aboard even though he was supposed to be down at the station.  
  
"Captain, I need to get in the OR."  
  
"Bones, is he…will he…?"  
  
M'Benga's face was an impenetrable mask at the incomplete question. "I'll do what I can, but I need to get in there now. You'll have to wait out here, Captain."  
  
Jim drew breath to reply, but just then another alarm started to sound, if possible even shriller and more frantic than the on that had stopped as the nurses wheeled Bones into the OR.  
  
"Doctor, he's crashing."  
  
M'Benga immediately spun around, hurrying through the sonic barrier that had long ago replaced the need for doctors to scrub in before a surgery, and Jim made move to follow. Of course he did, because M'Benga was going where Bones was, and that was where Jim was supposed to be, as well. But M'Benga engaged the door locking mechanism right after he was through, leaving the door to slide shut right in front of Jim's face.  
  
Jim wanted to scream and rage and yell, he wanted to demand to be let in and if that didn't work he wanted to override the door lock and storm into the OR on his own. It wasn't possible that they were keeping him from Bones now that he finally had him back again. But he knew, rationally, though not on the forefront of his mind, that he'd only get in the way. He couldn't help Bones now, no matter how badly he wanted to.  
  
He couldn't fix this.  
  
Bones' life was in someone else's hands right now, and though the mere thought of that was just _wrong_ , it wasn't within Jim's power to change.  
  
A hand gently reached for his arm, and Jim found himself manhandled carefully but forcefully away from the door. He wasn't surprised to find that it was Christine Chapel who was dragging him away, but he was surprised to find that her face carried none of its usual fond exasperation when dealing with him. She looked…just as blank as Jim felt, and that wasn't a comforting thought.  
  
"Come on, Captain, it's best if you wait in the office."  
  
Jim was too numb to even protest or hesitate as Chapel led him out of the main room of Medical and into the office. Bones' office. M'Benga's office for the past seven weeks now.  
He obediently sat down on the small sofa that stood against one of the walls and shook his head when Christine asked him if he needed anything. There was only one thing he needed right now, and that was something that wasn't in Christine's power to give.  
  
And when she assured him that he was going to be the first to know when there was news about Bones – she called him _Leonard_ , of course, and somehow that sounded wrong, too – he nodded again without another word. He didn't want news, he wanted Bones. And if…if he lost him now because of some fucking Klingons, then…  
  
…in all honesty Jim didn't know what he'd do. Without Bones, things just didn't make sense.


	13. (10.)

**_Stardate 2261.209 (July 27th, 2261)_**  
  
  
The world was too bright, a wall of impenetrable white that glared at him and hurt his eyes. And not only his eyes. Everything hurt, every single fiber of his body, a numb pain one second, the next a sharp sting tearing through his guts as if someone was cutting him open without the courtesy of an anesthetic. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and drift back to that dark and quiet place where there was no pain. But something was pulling him towards consciousness, something stronger than the pain, fear and fatigue that was beckoning him to drop back into it.  
  
So instead of giving in to the easy way, Leonard blinked against the brightness and woke up.  
  
"Bones?"  
  
Hearing Jim's voice didn't surprise him, and neither did the slow realization as to where he was and what had happened. Leonard blinked with renewed effort, and was finally rewarded by the sight of a pair of clear but tired blue eyes looking down at him.  
  
Jim.  
  
Pale, exhausted, scruffy and with deep shadows under his eyes, but all that were things Leonard's fuzzy brain registered but didn't comprehend. All that did register was that Jim was here, and if Jim was there things couldn't be that bad.  
  
He tried to respond, he really did. He felt his mouth open and his lips move, but no sound came out. A warm hand settled against his cheek, and a thumb started tracing tenderly, almost too carefully, against the stubbly skin.  
  
"Shhh," Jim whispered, and Leonard struggled to get his eyes to focus for long enough to take a good look at his husband, to see him and make sure that this was real, that Jim was really here. But it seemed all he could focus on properly was the bright and clear blue of Jim's eyes. Jim simply looked at him for a long moment, silently, and it scared Leonard a little that he had never before seen such an expression on his husband's face.  
  
Before Leonard could even make another attempt at speaking, Jim choked down a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and he seemed to sag in on himself as he leaned forward and buried his face in the crook of Leonard's neck. One hand grabbed a fistful of the thin fabric of Leonard's shirt as if he needed something to hold on to as the stubble on his face scratched against Leonard's skin. Leonard didn't have enough strength to pull his husband against him, but still he could feel the tremors coursing through Jim's body.  
  
Jim was whispering, his voice low and barely audible, and for a moment Leonard thought the words made no sense. It was only when he recognized the mutterings as a constant stream of _thank you thank you thank you thank you_ that Leonard realized Jim wasn't talking to him. Leonard had no idea who Jim was directing his gratitude at, whatever deity or higher power he might have argued and bargained with before so that he now thought he had to say the words. But it was the kind of gratitude that had been precluded by a number of promises, promises of the kind that started with words like _I'll do anything, if only_.  
  
This was the raw Jim, with all pretences and masks worn away from him and nothing left to hide what he really felt. It humbled Leonard as much as it hurt him to see Jim like that, and he longed to be able to do something to soothe, but he didn't even have the strength to bring up his arms and wrap them around his husband in order to hold him properly.  
  
"I thought we had talked about this, Captain."  
  
It was Geoffrey's voice, and what surprised Leonard was that Jim immediately detached himself from Leonard's side. There were no visible tears, but Jim's eyes were shining unnaturally bright, and that alone was enough to be cause for serious concern.  
  
"Right, no touching."  
  
As if to belie that statement – which was ridiculous to begin with, because there was no medical reason that prohibited someone from touching a patient on a biobed – Jim immediately reached for Leonard's hand and intertwined their fingers. Leonard's confusion was mounting.  
  
"He's awake, Doc."  
  
Leonard couldn't turn his head properly, but a moment later Geoffrey's face appeared in his line of vision. A slow grin started to form around the corners of his mouth.  
  
"About time, too, Leonard. We were about to elect the Captain our official mascot. I never thought he'd spend more time here because you're hurt than he ever does for his own injuries. How are you feeling?"  
  
Leonard tried to shrug, but his entire left side felt numb and wouldn't quite follow his command.  
  
"Okay," he rasped out.  
  
Geoffrey merely raised one dark eyebrow at him.  
  
"Of course. I bet you're just peachy. Well, I'll still examine you to form an own opinion, if you don't mind."  
  
Leonard would have rolled his eyes if that hadn't taken far more strength and control over his body than he thought he had right now. Jim's hand tightened in his, and Leonard brought up all his willpower to squeeze back. Geoffrey turned towards Jim.  
  
"I believe we had a deal, Captain."  
  
Jim's eyes widened slightly, but even though Leonard was sure he was about to protest, he didn't say anything, only clung tighter to Leonard's hand for a moment.  
  
"He's awake and coherent," Geoffrey added. "And he'll still be awake and coherent by the time you get back. One hour, Captain. I really need to examine Leonard."  
  
Much to Leonard's surprise, Jim nodded. "Yeah. Okay. One hour."  
  
"A regular meal, a shower and a change of clothes. I'm not even going to suggest that you try to get some sleep in a real bed."  
  
Now it was Jim who rolled his eyes, but it astonished Leonard how obediently he got up from his chair. He held on to Leonard's hand for a few moments longer, then he let go, bent forward and pressed a kiss to Leonard's lips. The stubble on Jim's face was not something Leonard was used to, and he couldn't really muster up enough strength to respond to the kiss, but still it felt like coming home after being away for far too long.  
  
"I'll be back soon," Jim added, running a hand through Leonard's hair before he pressed another quick kiss to his lips.  
  
"Okay," Leonard responded, his voice far weaker than he would have liked. And then Jim was gone, just like that, leaving only the lingering feeling of his hand in Leonard's in his wake. Leonard turned his head slightly in Geoffrey's direction.  
  
"What _deal_?"  
  
Geoffrey sighed, tapping the monitoring screen beside Leonard's bed a few times before he looked down at him.  
  
"One hour, a real meal, a real shower and a change of clothes as soon as you're awake and coherent. Knowing the Captain, he's going to be back in a little more than half an hour at the most, but still it should be enough to examine you without him hovering above you."  
  
Leonard knew that coherency wasn't to be expected so shortly after waking up, but damn if any of Geoffrey's words were making any sense.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, the Captain has been pretty much living here in Medical these past days."  
  
Leonard swallowed, his confusion mounting. "Days?"  
  
"Yes. Five days, in case you're wondering. And he hasn't left once since you were brought here. He's been using the decon showers, and he'd still be wearing the same clothes if his yeoman hadn't made sure to bring around something to change once a day. And if we hadn't forced him to eat something resembling a regular meal in your office once a day, he'd probably be occupying the bed next to yours by now."  
  
And that statement scared Leonard more than facing down those Klingons had.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Geoffrey didn't look up from the scanner he was wielding over Leonard's side, but he shrugged.  
  
"What do you remember? Because from what I gathered, Commander Spock is still trying to figure out some of the details of what went down. All I know is that the station you were on was attacked by Klingons, and that the virus you were working on was set free, which means that by the time we got an away team to the station's Medical Bay, it was sealed up tighter than an airlock. We had to run all patients through decontamination before we could beam them aboard and treat them. Which, just by the way, nearly cost your life."  
  
Leonard stared somewhat dumbly at those words. He remembered the Klingons, and how he had received his injury when trying to get the virus samples from the Cargo Hold to Medical. Admiral Marlow had screwed up, that much he remembered. Exchanged the medical supplies for latinum. And then he had wanted to use the virus as a weapon, and in the struggle for the vial it had fallen, and he had hit the biohazard lockdown for the lab.  
  
Megan.  
  
God, what had happened to Megan?  
  
"Megan? She and the Admiral were in the lab when the virus was set free, she was infected."  
  
Something was beeping above Leonard's head, and Geoffrey hit a few buttons on the readout before he pressed a gentle yet restraining hand against Leonard's right shoulder.  
  
"Doctor Parker is alive, Leonard."  
  
There was more to it, Leonard could hear as much from the other doctor's tone of voice. It was the tone of voice every medic used when there were complications they weren't willing to reveal.  
  
"She and Admiral Marlow are still in isolation. I'm not gonna lie to you, Leonard, there were complications and she's not out of the woods. But she's alive, and we're going to pull her through. You worry about yourself for once. Just a few days ago I had to prepare the Captain for the possibility that you might die, and that's an experience I'd rather not repeat if at all possible."  
  
Leonard swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He still had no clue what exactly was going on, but he trusted Geoffrey. If he said Megan was alive, then Megan was alive. And the little he had said about his injuries explained Jim's earlier reaction, though maybe not the full extend of the pain he had seen in his husband's eyes earlier.  
  
Geoffrey put down his scanner and leaned over the bed.  
  
"I'm afraid this is going to hurt, but I need to check the mobility of your hand and fingers. And you're maxed out on painkillers for the next two hours."  
  
"Doesn't feel like it," Leonard grumbled, trying not to flinch back as Geoffrey reached for the fingers of his left hand. He had been distantly aware that his entire left arm was immobilized and strapped across his chest, and that most of the pain he was feeling was pulsing down his arm from his left shoulder, but until now he hadn't taken a closer look.  
  
His arm was wrapped in a bandage down to his elbow, and his fingers that were resting on the right side of his chest looked slightly swollen. He wondered why he hadn't felt it before, because his wedding ring had to bite into the skin if his fingers were swollen…  
  
A spike of adrenaline led to another beeping of the monitor above his head as Leonard realized that he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. He hadn't taken it off once during the past seven months, not by himself, but now it was gone. Distantly, he remembered the sensation of someone pulling at his ring, trying to get it off no matter how much he struggled against it.  
  
Geoffrey stopped, looking at Leonard with concern. "What is wrong?"  
  
"My wedding ring. It's…where…"  
  
Again, Geoffrey put his hand against Leonard's good shoulder and gently pressed him back into the mattress.  
  
"The Captain has it. We had to take it off because your fingers were swelling up. You can put it back on as soon as the swelling has gone down, but for now I'm afraid you're going to have to leave it with the Captain."  
  
Leonard nodded, unable to say how incredibly relieved he felt at those words. As long as Jim had the ring, it was okay.  
  
"Right," Geoffrey said, reaching for Leonard's hand again. "I need you to move your fingers, even though it's gonna hurt. There was some nerve damage from the blade, and I need to see if the regeneration worked or if we need to make some adjustments."  
  
Leonard braced himself against the pain that he knew was coming, but no amount of preparation could help to lessen the pain that shot thought his arm as soon as Geoffrey moved his fingers.  
  
"Can you feel that?"  
  
It took a moment until Leonard managed to unclench his jaw in order to answer.  
  
"If you mean can I feel the agony right up to my shoulder, then the answer is yes."  
  
Geoffrey chuckled grimly, shifting his hand to move each finger in turn.  
  
"Any numbness?"  
  
Considering the pain, Leonard really wished for at least some degree of numbness right now, but he wasn't granted that much. He shook his head slightly, breathing hard against the pain in his shoulder. If he really had the maximum dosage of painkillers already and it still hurt like that, then it didn't take a medical degree to know that the injury was bad.  
  
"Good. Can you move the fingers at all?"  
  
He could, theoretically, he just wasn't too sure that he wanted to. But Leonard knew that Geoffrey wasn't going to give in before he tried, so he grit his teeth and weakly struggled to move his fingers back against Geoffrey's hand. The pain was blinding, and he didn't think he managed to exert much pressure, but after a few seconds of the grinding agony, Geoffrey released his hand and stepped back from the bed. Pulling out his tricorder, he took a detailed scan of Leonard's hand and arm.  
  
"You got lucky, you know?"  
  
Actually, Leonard didn't. Not really. Everything between the release of the virus and his waking up back home in Sickbay was a bit hazy. In fact, it was one big impenetrable mess in his head that he couldn't access.  
  
"What the hell happened, Geoffrey?"  
  
The other man sighed, then entered a few things into a PADD before he pulled up the chair Jim had been sitting in previously and sat down. Leonard was kinda grateful for the different angle that didn't require him to strain his neck in order to look at him.  
  
"What happened is that you nearly died, Leonard. More than once, actually, which doesn't exactly make things better. I do wonder, though, at which point during med school did they teach you that it was anything but suicidal to inject yourself with stimulants after you suffered a substantial blood loss?"  
  
Leonard weakly rolled his eyes. "I needed to keep going for a while longer. And I needed a clear head for that."  
  
Geoffrey huffed. " _A clear head_ , right. Because that dizzy feeling you were experiencing that you tried to get rid of with the stimulant that nearly killed you? That was your body trying to tell you that you had lost a little too much blood and should maybe take it easy for a while."  
  
"Geoffrey, I really don't need that lecture…"  
  
"Yes, apparently you do!"  
  
The unusually sharp tone of Geoffrey's voice stopped Leonard short. "Geoffrey?"  
  
The other doctor pinched the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh. Upon a closer look, Geoffrey looked far more exhausted than Leonard had noticed up until now. Five days, he had said earlier. It was not a far fetched guess to assume that Geoffrey hadn't gotten all that much sleep during that time. After a few moments, he let his hand sink down and sighed again.  
  
"By the time Nurse Harper lifted the biohazard lockdown on Medical, your condition had gone from bad to downright critical. The blade actually nicked your left subclavian artery, which explains why the bleeding didn't let up until you applied a pressure bandage. And you're damn lucky that it was an almost microscopic nick in the artery, because if the bleed had been any bigger you wouldn't have made it back to Medical in the first place. As it was, there was enough other damage from the blade, and you lost no small amount of blood. Your blood pressure went down, and when the stimulant increased your heart-rate drastically…I don't really have to tell you what the result was. You're a doctor, you must have known about the strain this was going to put on your heart."  
  
Leonard nodded. "I do. I was the only Medical Officer not MIA or subjected to the virus. I needed to make sure that Megan and the Admiral got their first round of treatment."  
  
Geoffrey watched him silently for a moment, then he shook his head.  
  
"I understand that. I really do. But there's taking a risk, and then there's downright foolishness, and what you did definitely doesn't belong in the first category. Your heart was already beating double time to try and make up for the blood loss; the stimulant caused havoc on your system. I was there, Leonard. And by the time we got to you, your heart was about to give out. We barely got you beamed up to Enterprise, through the contamination scan and into Medical before it actually did. You were in surgery for nearly three hours, and the Captain was right outside the doors for the entire time."  
  
Leonard swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Jim was there?"  
  
Geoffrey nodded. "Yes."  
  
"Why wasn't he aboard the station?"  
  
"He was. But by the time we got into Medical, the station was secured, and when he heard that you were injured, he beamed back up again immediately. Impeccable timing that he has, he arrived in Medical right when you coded. I've never seen him like that before, and I'd prefer not to have to see him like that again. The moment you got out of surgery, he glued himself to your side and didn't leave until I sent him away just now."  
  
Damn. Leonard knew how bad it must have looked; he had seen it far too often from a doctor's perspective. And it wasn't something he ever wanted Jim to see. It might explain some of the unusual docility Jim had shown earlier, though it was still a far cry from explaining everything.  
  
"What about that _no touching_ crap he mentioned when you came here?"  
  
Geoffrey shook his head with a sigh. "I never said _no touching_. What the Captain and I agreed on was _no almost climbing into bed with you_. I get that he missed you, and that he was worried, but trust me that it's no joyride to be torn out of my first two straight hours of REM sleep in days because the biosensors on the bed of one of my critical patients detect a sudden increase in weight and a second heartbeat and go haywire."  
  
For some reason, the thought that Jim had been as close to him as he hadn't been in weeks was a good one, so good that Leonard couldn't find it in himself to be angry with his husband for that blatant disregard of Sickbay rules. Given the choice, right now he'd very much prefer to have Jim curled up against him, too. No matter if Geoffrey approved or not.  
  
"So what's the verdict?"  
  
A small smile ghosted across Geoffrey's lips for a second.  
  
"You're not fooling me for a second, Leonard. I know that you're going to go through your file the moment you get the chance, so I'm going to spare us both the details. That it took nearly three hours of surgery to fix the bleeding and compensate for the blood loss should tell you how bad things were. And because apparently Klingons take great care to keep their weapons sharp but don't really pay the same attention to keeping them clean, you developed one hell of an infection. You got lucky that Nurse Harper is a sharp one and dosed you with prophylactic antibiotics as soon as you collapsed, because otherwise it might have ended a lot worse. It was bad enough as it was."  
  
Leonard slowly got the gist of what it implied when Geoffrey said 'bad'. It definitely sounded bad, and an infection explained only too well why his arm was immobilized, and why it hurt so much.  
  
"You were running a high fever for the better part of two days, one that didn't react to the medication the way I would have liked. It spiked the third day after you were beamed back aboard. It broke eventually, but the following night was the one I had to chase the Captain out of your bed."  
  
Leonard didn't feel feverish, so it either hadn't been as bad as Geoffrey made it sound, or he was floating on a whole lot of the good stuff right now. He had the sneaking suspicion that it was the latter.  
  
"How bad is it?"  
  
Geoffrey shrugged. "I was worried the infection would compromise your heart even further, so I put you on the hard stuff to keep it contained. Your white blood cell count still isn't where I'd like it to be, but you've been improving steadily for the past forty-eight hours. I'd like to keep the arm immobilized for another two days at the least, though."  
  
Considering how bad the short examination earlier had hurt, Leonard wasn't too keen on moving his arm anytime soon. And it wasn't his dominant arm, but still, he needed unrestricted movement. He needed to know that he was going to get it back, because otherwise he could kiss his job goodbye.  
  
"Any lasting damage?"  
  
Again, Geoffrey shrugged. "It's too early to tell, and you know that I can't tell you more than that right now, no matter how much you want to know. Up until earlier, we were still worried about when you were going to wake up. Judged by your progress so far, I'd give it at least two weeks filled with lots and lots of PT before you'll be back on duty. As for performing surgeries, we'll have to see how well your fine motor skills recover. You need to give it some time."  
  
Not what Leonard wanted to hear, but he should have known that Geoffrey wasn't going to give him a definite answer at this point. He wouldn't have done so, either.  
  
Geoffrey checked the chrono, then got up from his chair.  
  
"The Captain managed to stay away for nearly half an hour, so I'd say he'll be back any moment now. If you want to start your way back to consciousness with a good deed, make sure that he gets some rest in the foreseeable future. Real sleep in a real bed, not cat-naps in a chair. You're probably the only person aboard this ship he actually listens to."  
  
"When can I get out of here?"  
  
Geoffrey laughed at that. "Nice try, Leonard. Not today, and I wouldn't bet any credits on tomorrow, either. Two days ago I wasn't even sure you were going to wake up again, so this is not the time to rush anything. You know how this goes. Give it time."  
  
Yeah, and that was a damn lot easier when he was the one standing by the bedside, telling it to a patient. Being on the receiving end of it was in a whole different league. Even though he knew that Geoffrey was right. But he knew that no amount of discussing was going to sway the other doctor's mind on this, so he didn't even try. There were far more important things right now.  
  
"Could you check if Jim is back?"  
  
A smile stole across Geoffrey's face. "I bet you all my privileges as temporary CMO that he is. Try to get some rest, and try to make him get some rest, too."  
  
He picked up his PADD and turned towards the privacy screen that separated Leonard's bed from the rest of Sickbay. As he pulled it back, the first thing Leonard saw was indeed Jim, pacing up and down on the other side of the screen, arms crossed behind his back. He looked up as soon as Geoffrey stepped out, his eyes immediately looking over Geoffrey's shoulder to look into Leonard's direction.  
  
Geoffrey said something to Jim that Leonard couldn't hear, but he saw his husband nod absently, as if he wasn't even listening. His eyes were fixed on Leonard for the entire time that Geoffrey spoke, and as soon as the other man was finished, he stepped behind the privacy screen and pulled it close again.  
  
Jim had used the little time he had been away to shave, and change his clothes. He still wasn't in uniform, but Leonard didn't pay more than a fleeting glance to that. Jim here, that was the main thing. But instead of coming up to the bed immediately, he stopped a few paces away from Leonard, hands clenching and unclenching nervously at his sides. It took Leonard a second or two to understand, but he suddenly realized that Jim hadn't used the time away for just a shower and a meal. Apparently, he had also started thinking, because Leonard knew that expression on his husband's face only too well.  
  
Jim was angry.  
  
"Jim?"  
  
Jim opened and closed his mouth for a few times, so often that Leonard was actually starting to worry because a speechless Jim was a thing without precedents. But then Jim seemed to find his voice again, and it all seemed to burst out of him at once.  
  
"Damn it, Bones, Medical was _safe_. And you just leave, without a weapon, and try to take on three Klingons all by yourself? You could have gotten killed!"  
  
There was an edge of desperation in Jim's voice, and in a more vindictive moment Leonard might have answered that now Jim was finally feeling a little bit of what Leonard was going through every time Jim put himself in that kind of danger. But he couldn't bring himself to even think about saying that. He wasn't going to start weighing these things up against one another. And once Jim was able to see things more clearly, Leonard was sure he was going to understand.  
  
"I did what I had to do, Jim. I couldn't just sit on my ass while Lieutenant Phrax was dying. And who knows what would have happened if the Klingons had released the virus. What did you want me to do, stay put in Medical and let everyone else die?"  
  
Jim ran a hand over his face with a weary sigh.  
  
"No. Of course not. Just…damn, it's not…you could have been killed. You nearly died, Bones."  
  
"Nearly," Leonard replied, unwilling to have this conversation here and now. "But I didn't. I'm still here, Jim. And I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Jim seemed torn between the anger Leonard could understand, even though he didn't want to deal with it right now, and the exhaustion that was visible to anyone who took a closer look at him. Weakly, Leonard raised his good arm and stretched it out towards Jim. It was best to put a stop to this right now.  
  
"Come here."  
  
Jim was moving before Leonard even finished speaking, grasping Leonard's hands in both of his own. Leonard caught a glimpse of the two rings on Jim's left ring finger, his own slightly wider wedding band resting behind Jim's, and he grasped Jim's hand a little more tightly.  
  
"Do me a favor, Jim."  
  
"Sure."  
  
Leonard jerked his head slightly into the direction of the monitors above his head.  
  
"The left console, there's a square blue button. Push that twice, okay?"  
  
Jim seemed doubtful. "I'm not sure I should be messing around with the settings on the bed. M'Benga is going to kick me out if I do."  
  
"You're not going to mess with anything. Trust me, Jim. Just push that button twice."  
  
Jim hesitated for a second longer, but then he reached up and pressed the button. Leonard heard the two confirming beeps, and relaxed marginally. He couldn't really shift around on his own, and there wasn't much space, but they'd make do. They had dealt with less space before. Shifting to the left as far as he could, he patted the space to his right.  
  
"Come here."  
  
"Bones, M'Benga is going to freak out. He tore me a new one the last time I did more than hold your hand."  
  
Leonard shook his head. "He's not going to know, Jim. You just turned off the alarm."  
  
Jim's eyes widened. "And what if something happens?"  
  
Leonard tried to roll his eyes, but he wasn't too sure he succeeded. "Nothing's gonna happen, Jim. I hurt all over, but I'm going to be fine. I just need rest, and right now I need _you_. So get your scrawny ass up here."  
  
Jim stepped up to the bed, hesitantly toeing off his boots, and a small smile started to play around his lips.  
  
"Scrawny, huh? I've never heard you complain about that before."  
  
Leonard mirrored the smile as Jim climbed up on the biobed beside him, trying to settle in the narrow space beside Leonard without jostling his husband too much.  
  
"It's been a long seven weeks. I need to get reacquainted as soon as I'm out of here."  
  
Jim laughed, his breath a warm huff against the skin of Leonard's neck. He settled eventually, perched precariously on the right edge of the bed, his face buried in the crook of Leonard's neck and his arm draped carefully over his husband's hip. Leonard tightened his own arm around Jim, drawing him in more tightly against himself.  
  
Damn, how he had missed this. Just the feeling of having Jim close, feeling the warmth of his skin and hearing the regular sound of his breaths, he had gone far too long without it. But never again, he was sure of that. He wasn't going to leave Jim for this long again. If ever.  
  
"Remember what you told me when we got married?"  
  
Leonard seriously hoped this wasn't a trick question, because his head for sure wasn't up to those yet.  
  
" _I do_?"  
  
"Ha, ha. You're a riot, Bones. No, I mean when you told me that I'd better not make you a widower for the next couple of decades." Leonard hummed in agreement as the memory of that particular sappy moment came back to him. Though he had meant every word of it. Jim shifted slightly. "The sentiment's mutual, just so you know."  
  
Leonard smiled and turned his head to press a kiss against the only part of Jim's head that was within reach, which turned out to be his cheek.  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
Jim smiled against Leonard's neck before he relaxed against his husband with a deep sigh. Leonard knew that Jim wasn't asleep, or anywhere near the rest M'Benga had ordered him to get, but they'd get there. For now, Jim needed this just as much as Leonard did, and he wasn't going to think beyond that for now.  
  
They lay like that for a little while, until the sound of the privacy screen being pulled open made Leonard turn his head. Geoffrey was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed in front of his chest and a stern look leveled at the two men on the bed. He raised an eyebrow at Leonard as he saw him look into his direction, eyes going from Jim to Leonard's face and back again. It wasn't hard to read his thoughts from his face, and apparently this wasn't what he had meant when he told Leonard to make sure Jim got some rest.  
  
Well, tough luck there, because Leonard wasn't going to let Jim go anytime soon. Slowly, he shook his head, arm tightening around Jim's back as he did.  
  
Geoffrey's eye-roll was epic, and with a shake of his own head he mouthed _half an hour_ at Leonard, then turned around and left before Leonard could even reply with a _thanks_. With a sigh, Leonard closed his eyes again and pressed his face into Jim's hair, just breathing the scent he had missed so much over the past fifty-something days.  
  
Damn, it felt good to be home.


	14. (11.)

**_Stardate 2261.2012 (July 30th, 2261)_**  
  
The thing about experimental medication was that it was just that – experimental. There was always a scientific basis to it, a reason why a certain medication was designed that way, a plan how an antiviral was supposed to act against the virus. But there was always a margin of error, one that in the initial stages of testing could be quite big. A medication that worked fine in theory could have absolutely no effect when applied, or an effect completely averse to what was initially planned.  
  
That was why every medication was tested over and over again before any responsible doctor would even think about injecting a patient with it. Unless…well, unless there was no other choice.  
  
Leonard hadn't had any other choice but to inject both Megan and Admiral Marlow with the experimental antivirals. No other choice but to let them suffer the infection and die, which was no acceptable option to anyone who understood the meaning of the Hippocratic Oath. But they had never even gotten as far as testing the antiviral on a living sample of the virus, let alone an infected organism. All Leonard and Megan had based their serum on were calculations and experiments with dead virus samples. As a basis for treatment of a human being against a lethal virus, that was ridiculous.  
  
Megan was alive. Geoffrey hadn't lied about that. But just as Leonard had read from the other doctor's expression, there had been complications. In fact, that was a nice way to describe it.  
Initially, the antiviral had been designed to stop the virus from latching onto the cells and damaging the organs. Ideally, it would render the virus in the blood completely harmless and leave it to be flushed out of the patient's system, with no damage to any organs and no disabling of the blood's ability to clot. Ideally.  
  
A damn first trial run on a living subject with no previous tests to base the dosage or concentration on was no ideal attempt.  
  
In fact, looking through Megan's file, Leonard realized that it was actually pretty damn far from ideal.  
  
The virus had been well on its way to spreading through Megan's bloodstream by the time she had self-administered the antiviral. And from what Leonard could see in her file – and from what Geoffrey finally told him, after a lot of nagging questions – the virus' multiplication rate had gone down remarkably after the injection. That was the one good thing.  
  
The bad thing was that the antiviral hadn't been able to prevent the virus from attacking Megan's body from within. Her liver had been first to fail, during the first night aboard Enterprise. Geoffrey hadn't dared to intervene surgically because of the virus' effect on the blood clotting, and judged by the medical logs it had been a few hard hours during which the medical team had struggled to keep Megan's liver from failing completely. Even now, her liver function was compromised severely, and it would take long regenerative treatment to regain normal organ function.  
  
Geoffrey hadn't been able to save one of her kidneys, and she had been in critical condition for a day after the surgery to remove it. Now he was keeping Megan on a carefully balanced cocktail of medication to keep her remaining kidney functioning. In fact, what was pumping through Megan's bloodstream was one big cocktail of medications for a variety of symptoms and problems. Her heart and lungs had fortunately remained unaffected, but even her spleen and colon had been damaged by the effects of the virus.  
  
That she was still alive was actually credit to Nurse Harper, and nobody else. With Leonard out cold and Megan infected and locked down in the lab, she had done exactly what Leonard had asked of her before he passed out – she had done her best to keep everyone alive. And when she had seen Megan's condition worsen despite the antiviral, while at the same time Admiral Marlow showed no signs of infection other than a slight fever and an elevated white blood cell count, she had made a brave decision. She had injected Megan with half a dosage of the preventive antiviral Marlow had been given.  
  
Maybe it had been dumb luck, or maybe Nurse Harper had seen something on the blood screenings that had made her anticipate that reaction, but for some reason the combination of the two antivirals had stopped the virus from spreading further through Megan's body, and had helped to keep the damage in check.  
  
And it was lucky that way, because from what he had seen, Leonard doubted that Megan's body would have been able to sustain much more damage.  
Medically, Leonard still couldn't explain how exactly the two antivirals had interacted. It was going to take some research, and a more detailed analysis to figure out what exactly had happened. But that could wait until Megan's condition had stabilized. One thing Leonard vowed to keep in mind, though. If there was only the slightest sign that Nurse Harper wanted to get away from the Bragan Outpost, he was going to make sure that she was transferred to the Enterprise. A nurse who dared to make such a daring decision under that kind of pressure, and one who stood up for her choice afterwards, was someone he'd be stupid not to want on his staff.  
  
Later. Another point on the list of things he was going to worry about later.  
  
For now, Leonard was on his way to see Megan. She and Admiral Marlow were still kept in isolation. Marlow had shown none of the physical signs of infection other than a fever, but the virus had been present in his bloodstream, too, even if it hadn't caused much damage. And Geoffrey as well as Jim had agreed to keep both of them in isolation until no trace of the virus was left in either of their bodies.  
  
And it was good that way, Leonard mused. As long as Marlow was in isolation, nobody but the doctors and nursing staff could get to him. Jim had been glued to Leonard's beside ever since he had been brought back aboard the ship. It hadn't surprised Leonard to hear that his husband had taken himself off duty, or that Jim had spent eighteen hours a day in Medical even after Leonard had woken up, leaving only to go and get some sleep at Geoffrey's insistence.  
  
But soon he'd be released, and as soon as that happened and Jim got the time to catch up on everything that had happened before and during the Klingon attack, he was going to get to know how badly the Admiral had screwed up. And once that happened, it might prove to be a good thing if Marlow stayed out of Jim's reach for a little longer.  
  
Leonard didn't remember that Medical was quite this big, but he breathed deeply against the dull throbbing in his left shoulder and continued walking. Geoffrey might have just released him, but if he caught wind of the fact that Leonard was still feeling less than peachy, Leonard had no doubt that the other doctor was going to reconsider that choice. But damn it, if he was already stuck lying in bed all day long, he could as well do it at home, in his and Jim's quarters. He was going to go stir crazy if he had to stay in Medical for any longer.  
  
He needed to get out of here, and he was well enough to leave. That was his opinion as a doctor, period.  
  
Nevertheless, his knees were feeling suspiciously weak as he finally reached the small isolation ward that had been established in the far corner of Medical, right next to the labs. Like all the beds in a starship Sickbay, they too were seriously lacking privacy. Instead of a privacy screen that could be pulled close around the beds, most of the wall separating the two small rooms from the rest of the room was entirely made of see-through material. The isolation wards could only be reached through an airlock, but thee was a comm panel on the outside that allowed communication with the people inside the ward.  
  
Marlow and Megan were being kept separated from each other, and in passing Leonard saw the Admiral lying on his biobed, by all appearances fast asleep.  
Megan, too, appeared to be sleeping, and even though Leonard had read her file before coming over to see her, at first he was shocked by her appearance. She looked pale and fragile, and what little color there was on her face was a sickly jaundiced yellow. It had only been a week since Leonard had seen her, but her body's fight against the virus had left clearly visible traces.  
  
At first glance, she appeared to be fast asleep, and Leonard was already about to turn around and make his way back towards his biobed. But then she turned her head into his direction and fluttered her lids open. She was a few feet away, but still he could see that the white of her eyes had taken on a yellow tinge, as well. He would have to ask Geoffrey about an update on her liver function later. As she realized who was standing in front of the separating panel, she smiled weakly.  
Leonard pressed the comm button against the wall.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Leonard." The smile on her face was just a weak twitch of her lips, but it was genuine.  
  
"How're you holding up, darlin'?"  
  
"I'm okay." Everything about her appearance belied that statement, and being the doctor that she was she had to know it was unconvincing. "I guess you read my file, so you probably know more about how I'm doing than I do."  
  
Leonard smiled and shook his head. "I'm not here as a doctor. Jim would have my head if I started checking up on patients now."  
  
Megan swallowed, then weakly shifted on the bed to reach for a glass of water beside the bed. The doctor in him longed to go in and help her as she struggled to sit up and drink a few sips, but he knew that even if he could get through the airlock in a timely fashion, he's still not be of much use right now. So he watched, fingers of his good hand twitching against his thigh, as Megan laboriously drank a few sips of water and sank back down against her pillow.  
  
"'m surprised he let you out of his sight."  
  
To be completely honest, Leonard was surprised about that, as well. For the past two days, it had been hard enough to get Jim to leave Medical for a couple of hours at night. But even though Jim was still officially off duty, this had been one meeting he had to attend.  
  
"He and Spock are meeting with the Captain of the _Ontario_. He might be off duty, but Spock insisted that he attend. To be honest, I think Geoffrey bribed Spock to say that, just so that Jim would get out of Medical for a while."  
  
The scary thing was, that particular theory wasn't as outlandish as it might sound at first. It had been obvious over the past two days that Geoffrey thought Jim was spending way too much time in Medical, even though he hadn't done anything to kick him out, not even after he had caught him lying in Leonard's bed. But still, his hints about proper rest and the side-effect of sleep deprivation had been getting less and less subtle over the past day. Leonard wouldn't be surprised if Geoffrey had told Spock to insist that Jim came along for the meeting.  
  
He was going to get the truth out of Geoffrey at some point. As soon as he was the one who decided on Medical's duty roster and the distribution of nightshifts again, at the latest.  
  
"It's good to see you up again." Megan nodded at his arm, which was still strapped against his chest underneath the blue scrubs shirt Christine had equipped him with earlier. "Last I remember, it looked pretty bad."  
  
"Sure felt like it," he grumbled. "But I'll survive. A little PT and the arm is going to be as good as new."  
  
He couldn't even tell for himself how much of the cheer in his voice was fake, but the truth was that it was probably going to take a bit more than a few hours of exercise to get full movement and steadiness back to his arm and hand. But that wasn't something he needed to worry Megan with right now.  
  
"Are you in pain?"  
  
Megan shook her head.  
  
"Nah. Geoffrey is keeping me on the good stuff." She waved a hand in the air vaguely.  
  
" _Geoffrey_ , huh?" Leonard teased, eliciting another weak smile from Megan.  
  
" _Geoffrey_ , yes. He's nice. And he's got a better bedside manner than you do."  
  
Leonard raised an eyebrow. "He's single, too. And a good catch. Want me to hook the two of you up?"  
  
"You're an ass." It was said with a smile, though, so Leonard didn't worry. What he did worry about, however, was the way Megan's eyelids began to droop.  
  
"I'm gonna let you get some rest, okay? I'll come back tomorrow, I'm sure _Geoffrey_ will take good care of you in the meantime."  
  
Megan nodded with a tired smile, already drifting off and too far gone to answer. Leonard deactivated the comm and turned towards the door. Reading about Megan's condition in her file had been one thing, but it was a whole other feeling to have seen her with his own eyes. It made it a bit easier to believe that she was going to come out of this okay, even if it was going to take her a while to get there.  
  
Now he could focus all his energy on getting home. Two decks, one turbolift ride and two long corridors, then he could lay down in his own bed and get some rest while he waited for Jim to get home.  
  
The way to their quarters seemed longer than it normally did. He was walking slowly, but still he had to stop twice along the way to catch his bearings. But finally he reached the door to their quarters, and with a small sigh of relief he entered the code into the keypad. The door opened, and Leonard felt all the tension drain out of his body as he stepped through.  
  
Home.  
  
Damn, that felt good.  
  
For a few seconds, he simply stood and breathed. The room still smelled just like Leonard remembered, a mixture of different subtle scents he couldn't name individually, but the combination of which marked the room as Jim's and his. It smelled like home, and it hit Leonard at that moment how much he had missed this during the past weeks. The simple smell and feel of it was nothing that could ever be replaced by a video-transmission.  
  
A few years ago he would have laughed at anybody who'd dare to suggest that he could ever call any part of a spaceship home, but now he couldn't imagine being anywhere else. It were just two rooms in a tin can floating in space, separated from the vast vacuum that was out to kill them by nothing but an altogether too thin hull, but it was home. Most importantly, it was where Jim was.  
  
Slowly, Leonard walked through the room, eyes roaming over all the things that made up their life together. He didn't know why, but for some reason he had expected more to have changed. He had been away for seven weeks, after all, but other than a mess of PADDs which had not been on Jim's desk the last time Leonard had been here, and which was probably the remains of the work Jim had abandoned when the distress signal had come in, everything still looked the same. Just as if he had never been away.  
  
Trailing the fingers of his good hand absently over the back of the sofa, Leonard walked past the partition and into the bedroom. The bed was made, he noticed with a smile. Jim was a slob about where he dropped his clothes once he took them off. To be honest, he was a slob about pretty much anything, but he always made his bed with a precision that bordered on military. It was a habit Leonard had long ago given up trying to understand and something he had put off as an endearing trait he'd just have to live with.  
  
Sitting down on the mattress, he ran a hand over Jim's pillow. There was a piece of fabric sticking out from underneath it, and Leonard's smile widened as he tugged at it and pulled out his shirt, the one he had been wearing the night before his departure to the Bragan system. Jim had kept it, despite the fact that it was impossible that it still smelled like Leonard.  
  
And damn if it wasn't completely unhygienic to keep a shirt in bed that hadn't been washed for over seven weeks. But still, Leonard brought the shirt up to his face and breathed in. It smelled like Jim, and suddenly Leonard longed to just curl up on his own bed and sleep like this, finally wrapped in the smell and feel of home. It would be best if Jim was here, of course, but maybe he could take a little nap until Jim got back.  
  
Stretching out on the bed, Leonard shifted around to accommodate his injured shoulder. One of Geoffrey's conditions for releasing him early had been that his left arm remained immobilized for at least a day longer. But despite the fact that he couldn't move his left arm at all, the mattress shifted beneath him as if it was still remembering his shape, enveloping him in a comfortable position immediately. He sagged back with a sigh, feeling himself relax. This was so much better than the biobeds down in Medical.  
  
Leonard closed his eyes, though he had no intention of going to sleep. He didn't think he could, either. His shoulder was throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and he only wanted to lay back and wait for the pain to stop. Geoffrey had given him another injection of painkillers before he had left Medical; he only wanted to wait for those to kick in.  
  
As the pain slowly dulled to a soft throbbing down his arm, Leonard turned his face into the pillow with a sigh. He was comfortable, for the first time in weeks. He was just going to close his eyes for a little while until Jim came home.  
  
The room was silent, except for the steady background hum of the ship around him. Finally, the painkillers were kicking in, and slowly but surely he felt himself drifting off.  
  
After a while, it was impossible to tell how much later, he noticed a slight draft in the room. Leonard didn't know where it could possibly come from. He was on a starship, in a cabin with closed doors and no windows to open, but he was too tired to get up and check on it now, too tired to even open his eyes. Maybe Jim had messed around with one of the vents of the airing system while he had been gone. They could fix it later. Actually, it was kinda soothing, a soft movement over his hair that, combined with the drugs, lulled him into a floating state somewhere between not quite awake and not quite asleep where the pain in his shoulder was barely noticeable.  
  
The gentle movement against his hair didn't let up, and Leonard allowed it to soothe him more and more into relaxation. Maybe they should keep the vent pointed that way, he thought. He could get used to it. But then the movement against his hair stopped, and he felt a gentle pressure against his temple. Tiredly, he blinked his eyes open, surprised that it felt like waking up even though he was sure he had only drifted off a little.  
  
Jim was leaning over him, face just a few inches above his own.  
  
"Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."  
  
"'s okay," Leonard mumbled, shifting closer towards Jim's warmth beside him. "Didn't mean to fall asleep."  
  
The gentle movement against his hair started up again, and only now did Leonard realize that it had nothing to do with any kind of draft.  
  
"Are you petting me?"  
  
Jim smiled and bent down to press another kiss against Leonard's temple.  
  
"I didn't want to wake you," he repeated. "But it felt good to come home and see you here. I missed that."  
  
Leonard struggled into a sitting position, grimacing as the movement tore at his injured shoulder. Jim's arm immediately went around his back, and to be honest, Leonard was grateful for the support, even if it seemed to increase Jim's worry. Blue eyes narrowed in concern.  
  
"Should you be up already?"  
  
"I'm not _up_ , in case you didn't notice. I'm sitting on a bed, that doesn't really count as _being up_ in my book. And I needed to get out of there, Jim, you of all people should understand that. I'm not up to much more than lying in bed, anyway, and I can do that here just as well as in Medical. Better, probably."  
  
Jim smiled and shifted closer, until his face was directly in front of Leonard's, close enough that he could feel Jim's breath on his face. One hand moved up to cup the side of his face, and the smile on Jim's face turned so tender and relieved that Leonard felt something inside of him break at the sight.  
  
"Welcome home, Bones."  
  
He leaned even closer, and at the first gentle press of lips against his own, Leonard realized that this was what he had been waiting for, for far too long now. Of course Jim had been with him ever since he had woken up, with only a few short interruptions. But they had never been alone, and while neither of them had tried in any way to hold back on affectionate gestures, it was something different to give or receive a chaste kiss on the lips in front of Bones staff. Different than the feeling of Jim's lips on his now, the way he tangled his hands in Leonard's hair and pulled him closer, the way he immediately yielded as Leonard deepened the kiss. This was so much better.  
  
He was clutching to Jim's shoulder with his good hand, and he longed to have mobility in both his arms so that he could pull Jim even closer, but despite that inability, despite the pain that was still throbbing in his shoulder, it was perfect. When they broke apart, Jim leaned his forehead against Leonard's, small lines creasing the corners of his eyes as he smiled.  
  
"I missed you."  
  
"It's good to be home. I missed you, too. I missed this."  
  
Jim withdrew, though he kept his hands against Leonard's arm and hip. His gaze, though, when he regarded Leonard, grew worried.  
  
"Are you in pain?"  
  
Leonard shook his head. "It's okay as long as I don't move my shoulder. And I got another hypo for later."  
  
"Have you eaten anything?"  
  
As if it had been asked directly, Leonard's stomach gave a low grumble.  
  
"The stuff Christine called lunch, though I'm not entirely convinced it wasn't some waste from the mess they wanted to get rid of. What time is it, anyway?"  
  
"Around seven."  
  
Huh. That meant he had slept for nearly three hours. That was…unexpected.  
  
"I could eat, I guess."  
  
Jim beamed at him, though for some reason the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Leonard noticed, but didn't think about it too much. They had been through a tough couple of weeks, and the past week especially had been hard on Jim. It would take some time until things were back to normal.  
  
"I'll fix us something, you just wait here."  
  
But as Jim dashed off towards the replicator in the living area, Leonard struggled out of bed. He felt marginally better than earlier, and definitely not as shaky, and eating in bed was only going to make him feel like an invalid. He could as well get up and eat at the table, like they normally did. As he came into the living area, Jim was already pulling plates out of the replicator. When he saw Leonard, a frown settled on his face.  
  
"What are you doing up? I was going to bring the food over to you."  
  
"Appreciate it, but I'd like to eat sitting up."  
  
Jim looked worried, but Leonard shook his head determinedly. "Really Jim, I'm good. You don't need to worry."  
  
Something crossed Jim's face at those words, but it was gone quickly and Jim determinedly started to tuck into his meatloaf as if to avoid all further comments. Leonard wondered, but he sat down in front of his own dinner. Even handling fork and knife was difficult with only one arm, and he was grateful that Jim had picked a meal where he didn't have to cut anything. It was extremely considerate. Not that Jim normally wasn't considerate. He was, but still Leonard couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.  
  
They ate their dinner in silence, and even though he had felt hungry before, Leonard had to admit defeat after he had finished half his plate. Again, Jim eyed him with that strangely worried glance as he put down his fork and pushed his plate away.  
  
"Are you done already?"  
  
Leonard nodded. "I haven't eaten properly in over a week, Jim. Give it a day or two. And trust me, this tasted a whole lot better than the crap Christine tried to feed me for lunch." He pushed his chair back from the table and got up. "I think I'll head back to bed."  
  
Jim nodded. "You do that. I'll just clean up here."  
  
Their quarters really weren't that big, nowhere near as big as an apartment for two people would be on Earth, or most other planets, but still Leonard was glad when he finally reached the bed and sank down on the edge of the mattress. He wanted nothing more than to crawl under the blanket and sleep until the next morning, but it wasn't as easy as that. Unless he wanted to sleep in the scratchy surgery scrubs Christine had given him earlier, sleep would have to wait for a little while longer. He might be able to wriggle out of the loose pants with just one hand to push them down, but getting out of the shirt was another matter entirely.  
  
Damn.  
  
Tiredly, Leonard leaned his elbow on his thigh and rested his face in his hand. He was so tired that he would have probably fallen asleep like that sooner or later, but a gentle touch to his good shoulder brought him back to wakefulness.  
  
"Bones, are you all right? Are you in pain?"  
  
He shook his head at Jim who was crouching worriedly in front of him.  
  
"No, just tired."  
  
"Then why aren't you in bed?"  
  
It would have been embarrassing, but Leonard had been a doctor for so long that it would be hypocritical if he'd allow that particular confession to embarrass him.  
  
"I need help with the shirt. Can't take it off on my own."  
  
Jim nodded immediately.  
  
"Sure." He reached for the hem of the shirt somewhat insecurely. "Just…tell me if I hurt you, okay?"  
He carefully pulled the shirt up, freeing Leonard's injured shoulder first by pulling up the empty shirt sleeve. He tried to be gentle, but still Leonard hissed in pain as the fabric was pulled over his head and he drew his shoulder back almost reflexively.  
  
"Sorry, god, I'm sorry Bones…"  
  
"It's okay," Leonard grunted out from behind clenched teeth. "Not your fault. Would have hurt no matter what you did."  
  
"So…I guess you probably don't want to put on a shirt before you go to bed?"  
  
Leonard quickly shook his head. "No. No, I think I'll just leave that off tonight."  
  
Jim smiled at him, and this time the smile at least resembled one of his usual impish smirks. "Now we only need to get you out of those pants."  
  
He went over towards the closet and pulled out a pair of boxer-shorts, but as he approached the bed again he hesitated.  
  
"Do you want to do it, or…well…"  
  
Leonard grit his teeth. "Probably quicker if you do it."  
  
He got up from his perch on the bed and struggled hard to think innocent thoughts as Jim reached for the hem of his scrub pants and pulled them down. Normally, Jim crouching in front of him like that while Leonard stepped out of his pants was the prelude for a lot more action than what was going to happen between those sheets tonight. But even as Jim pulled up the boxer sorts, and despite the fact that his fingers lingered against the small of Leonard's back for a moment after he finished pulling up the shorts, Leonard still wanted nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep. His thoughts didn't even once stray into any other direction.  
  
It had to be the medication. Or the bone-deep exhaustion. Or the pain. Or maybe a combination of all three, it was hard to tell. All he could say for sure was that normally his body reacted differently to being half-naked and this close to Jim. _Vastly_ different.  
  
But tonight, Jim didn't make any move towards him, either. He merely drew back the comforter and hovered beside him while Leonard shifted on the bed until he had found a position that felt comfortable enough to spend the night in. He wouldn't exactly call what Jim did next _tucking in_ , but it was a close thing. And he was even more surprised when Jim vanished into the bathroom, only to come back out not even five minutes later, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts himself.  
  
"Jim?"  
  
Jim shrugged. "I need to catch up on some sleep, as well."  
  
At not even eight in the evening, that was the only confirmation Leonard needed that something was off. Jim had never mastered the art of giving his body a chance to catch up on missed rest, and somehow Leonard doubted that tonight was the exception to that rule. He turned towards Jim as far as his shoulder would allow him without hurting.  
  
"Jim, what's wrong?"  
  
Jim had been about to get into bed, but at those words he stopped. Perching on the edge of the mattress he ran a hand over his face, but didn't look at Leonard directly.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Leonard thought briefly about struggling into an upright position again, but decided against it for now. It was only going to hurt, and it would give Jim a distraction from the conversation Leonard actually wanted to have.  
  
"Other than the obvious, I mean. I get that the past week has been hard. But you've been acting weird ever since you came home earlier."  
  
"I'm acting _weird_? Come on, Bones, you always say that."  
  
Leonard knew that tone, and he knew what it meant. Jim was getting defensive, and whether he knew it or not, he was only ever getting like that when he felt caught. Quite probably Jim didn't know, because if he did he'd do his damn best to change it. Jim never wanted to be predictable.  
  
"You're hovering. And you're…I don't even know what to call it. You seem even more worried about me now than you did the past two days while I was still in Medical. Or more upset, I don't know. But it's different than before you went to the meeting with Spock and the Captain of the _Ontario_ , so of course I'm wondering what happened."  
  
Jim ran a hand over his face with a sigh, but then he settled on the bed Indian style, resting his arms loosely on his legs with his shoulders slumped forward. It looked somewhat defeated, and Leonard didn't know quite what to make of it.  
  
"It wasn't the meeting. That was just boring. Tedious, even."  
  
Well, that was a start, though Leonard still didn't know what the hell all this was about then.  
  
"Then what happened?"  
  
Jim drew a breath that was just this side of shaky before he seemed to come to the decision to say what was on his mind.  
  
"I saw the surveillance footage."  
  
Leonard frowned. "What surveillance footage?"  
  
Jim looked up at him at that, eyebrows drawn together.  
  
"The surveillance footage from Medical, from the time of the attack."  
  
That sentence alone should have sent all his alarm bells ringing, but Leonard didn't even get as far as to analyze the content of his husband's words.  
  
"Why the hell is there surveillance footage?"  
  
"You were the one who asked Spock for Enterprise's emergency protocols, Bones."  
  
Right. They had updated those protocols a while back. Whenever the ship went on alert, the surveillance feeds of all critical stations were recorded automatically – the Bridge, Engineering, and Medical.  
  
"So there's surveillance recordings of everything that happened in Medical during the attack?"  
  
Jim nodded. "Only Medical, because those were the only protocols you updated to Enterprise's standards, but yes. Everything from the moment the station went on red alert was recorded."  
  
Images of what had happened during the attack flashed through Leonard's mind – Marlow's screw-up, all those injured crewmembers they had treated, the shouting matches between the Admiral and him, and most of all the disjointed flashes of memory he had of his return to Medical after his injury. Whatever Jim had seen on those surveillance feeds, it couldn't have been pretty.  
  
"Jim…"  
  
Jim shook his head, biting his lower lip as if to keep himself from saying something, but it was a futile effort. The words just tumbled out, seemingly beyond his control.  
  
"We had to wait for Captain Stevens, and Spock, when he briefed me on what happened over the past week he mentioned those feeds. I…he didn't want me to watch them. Said that there was no need for it because I wasn't on duty, how it was illogical for me to watch those feeds when there's other things I should be focusing my time and energy on, and that he'd brief me on the events on the outpost in detail as soon as I come back on duty, which I guess is Vulcan for I should worry about _you_ right now and leave the captaining to him for a little while longer. But…I don't know, I wanted to see it with my own eyes before we talked to Captain Stevens."  
  
"She must have kept you waiting for a long time. It must have been hours of video material."  
  
Jim shook his head. "I skimmed through some parts. Watched the rest after we came back from the meeting, before I came back here. I…Bones…"  
  
Pain or not, now Leonard did struggle into a sitting position, and it was testament to the fact that Jim was extremely upset by what he had seen that for once he didn't seem to notice how Leonard's face pulled into a pained grimace as he sat up.  
  
"Jim, I can only imagine what it must have looked like, but I'm still here. I lost a lot of blood, and I understand that it was close for a while there, but I'm still here. And I'm not going anywhere. No matter what you saw on that video feed."  
  
Jim shook his head. "No. It's not that. I mean, of course it's that, but not only. God, I don't even know what you want to hear. You were the one who insisted that something's wrong in the first place."  
  
"Because I know you well enough to tell that something is, Jim. And now you tell me that you've seen a video feed of me stumbling through Medical Bay, bleeding all over the place until I finally collapse, so I don't think it's too far-fetched for me to assume that it has something to do with the way you're hovering since you came back."  
  
Jim was silent for a few long moments, and Leonard watched how a number of emotions crossed his husband's face. He was startled when the one he could recognize most easily was anger, even if it was gone as quickly as it had come.  
  
"Did I tell you that I'm proud of you?"  
  
And that came completely out of the left field.  
  
"Two days ago you wanted to tear me a new one for taking all those risks."  
  
Jim shook his head. "No. I mean, yes. Of course you took risks I never wanted for you to take, and I don't even want to imagine what could have gone wrong. But I mean before that. This wasn't Enterprise, Bones. None of the people in that Medical Bay had any kind of serious battle experience. Most of them took the standard sims during their training, and haven't been under fire since. You were holding them together."  
  
Leonard shifted on the bed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.  
  
"I was just doing my job, Jim."  
  
Jim shook his head. "Maybe you don't know that you've done it, but that was more than doing your job, Bones. You kept everything organized, and you kept everyone calm – the nurses, the ensigns, even Doctor Parker. More than that, you kept them busy and made sure that they didn't even have any time to freak out. You didn't see it, but on those feeds it was so obvious that everyone was looking at you for guidance, and you gave that to them, without even having to think about it."  
  
Normally, Jim was the one in their relationship who had issues accepting compliments, but this time Leonard didn't quite know what to say. Jim was right, of course. He had done all those things, and maybe more consciously than Jim assumed. But still, it had been his job. On Enterprise, he knew that his staff was experienced enough in those situations. When push came to shove, they didn't need anyone to hold them together. On the station, he had to fill that role, but it had been a simple necessity to make sure that Medical remained functional, that the injured crewmembers were going to receive the treatment they needed. No matter what Jim said, Leonard had simply done his job. It had implied keeping his staff from freaking out about being attacked, but it had been nothing more than his job.  
  
But Jim didn't even give him a chance to get a word in between to try and tell him that.  
  
"You were the one who took it on with the Admiral when the station was boarded. You took charge, and you put Marlow in his place. And it was probably the riskiest, most stupid thing you've done in your life, and for as long as I'm around you're not even going to _think_ about doing something as insanely stupid ever again. But…damn Bones, do you even have any idea what you did? And don't say _my job_ , because I'm the Captain of a starship, and I know damn well that it's not in a CMO's job description to leave his station while there's an enemy invasion. It's not your damn job to take out three Klingons without a weapon, for crying out loud."  
  
"To be honest, Klingon number two took out Klingon number one all by himself, with no help from me."  
  
A choked, watery laugh fell from Jim's lips.  
  
"What I'm trying to tell you is that you could have stayed in Medical for the duration of the attack, and nobody could have given you any crap about it later on. But you didn't. You risked your own life even though you had every right to do your job and nothing more and stay safe. And it scares the hell out of me that you did that, but it makes me so damn proud at the same time. You saved that Denobulan's life, Bones."  
  
"I also brought the virus back to Medical where it infected Megan."  
  
Jim moved so quickly that it startled Leonard. One moment he had been sitting on his side of the bed, the next he was kneeling right next to Leonard, one hand on his uninjured shoulder, the other cupping his cheek and forcing Leonard to look at him.  
  
"You brought the virus to a place where it could be contained. You kept the Klingons from laying their hands on it, and I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if they had tried to break open that transport container. So don't you start taking the blame for the fact that she got infected, Bones. Don't you _dare_. That's Admiral Marlow's doing, and I'm going to make sure that he gets what's coming to him for that, and for everything else that he screwed up that day. But it's not your fault, Bones. You did what you had to, and a lot more than that. You risked your life for everyone aboard that station, and I'm damn proud of you for that."  
  
Jim's face hovered just a few inches away from his own, and Leonard wasn't quite sure what kind of reaction his husband expected from him right now.  
  
"Okay," he finally said, no matter how inadequate it sounded. "But that doesn't explain what freaked you out so much."  
  
"I nearly lost you."  
  
"A week ago. Not today."  
  
Jim bit his lower lip and sat back. His hand slid from Leonard's cheek down to his chest, and the loss of the warmth of Jim's skin on his face seemed too abrupt.  
  
"Jim?"  
  
"It sunk in. Seeing that video feed drove it home. Sitting beside your bed for five days should have done the job. Watching you go into a seizure because of the fever should have. I thought it did. But the video feed was what did it. You were barely conscious when you got back to Medical, and still you didn't stop. You risked your own life with those stimulants just to make sure that everyone else was safe. And when you collapsed…" Blue eyes looked up at him with such a mixture of awe and fierce love that something lodged itself in Leonard's throat. "I never want to see something like that again, Bones. Never. It scared the crap out of me."  
  
Leonard raised his good hand and cupped Jim's neck.  
  
"I'm still here."  
  
"You nearly…Fifty-four people died, Bones. Spock and Captain Stevens discussed the official death toll, and fifty-four crewmembers didn't make it. You nearly ended up being a name on that list, Bones, and I…I can't…" He shook his head as if to chase away a thought. "It wouldn't have been worth it. And I know that as Captain, I should think differently, but all those lives you saved, all that bravery, all that wouldn't have mattered if you hadn't made it out alive. And it scares me that I think like that."  
  
Leonard heard the words, but more importantly he also heard the things Jim didn't say explicitly. Jim defined himself for a large part through his Captaincy, and the only reason why they worked the way they did was that he could separate being a Captain from being a husband, just like Leonard made that clear distinction between being Jim's doctor and his husband. But Leonard knew what it felt like to have those clear lines blur. Maybe he had experienced it more often than Jim had, and he knew how much it hurt. And how normal it was to feel like Jim was feeling now, even if his husband wasn't willing to admit that to himself. It didn't make him less of a good Captain to feel that way.  
  
Jim rarely held back when it came to admitting his feelings for Leonard, but it were those wordless admissions, the times when he managed to say _I love you_ without using those words that still rendered Leonard speechless. He gently traced Jim's cheek with his thumb, relieved when his husband leaned into the contact.  
  
"Don't do that, Jim. Don't do that to yourself just because you got feelings beyond your Captaincy. You think I feel any different whenever you manage to get yourself hurt? Because I don't, not a single damn time. It's normal, and once in a while you can allow yourself to be a normal human being. It keeps things interesting."  
  
That did the trick and finally brought a smile to Jim's face, one of those genuine ones that reached his eyes.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere. And it's going to take more than one moron of an Admiral and a bunch of Klingons to take me away from you. I'm in this for the long haul, Jim."  
  
Jim closed his eyes with a small sigh and leaned further into Leonard's caressing hand. It still surprised Leonard, even after all those years, that Jim allowed him to see that side of him, the vulnerability and the insecurities he hid behind a cocky, self-assured smile in front of everyone else. It was a humbling knowledge, one that made Leonard fall a little more in love with Jim every time he was reminded of it.  
  
It was so easy, so natural to pull Jim closer then and seal their lips in a kiss. Jim was pliant against him, leaning into the contact immediately. It was hard to keep sitting upright with Jim's weight pressing into him and no free hand to balance himself with, but being the tactical genius that he was, Jim somehow managed to maneuver Leonard on his back before he even knew what was happening, and so smoothly that he barely noticed the shift in position in his injured shoulder.  
  
And _this_ was exactly what he needed. Jim close to him, Jim's bare skin against his, Jim's lips on his own until the need to breathe forced them to come up for air. It had been far too long since they had been like this, and Leonard let himself fall into the easiness and comfort of it all. Right now, all he wanted was to forget about everything but Jim.  
  
The kiss managed what the earlier awkward act of undressing hadn't. Having Jim this close, skin on skin and finally touching one another without any barriers beneath them or any threatening interruptions sent Leonard's blood south and made his heart speed up. And as his heart sped up from the feeling of _Jim_ and _here_ and _mine_ , so did the throbbing pulses of pain that radiated through his shoulder and down his arm.  
  
It was too much, too soon. Geoffrey had been clear in his admonishment about no physical exertions, and right now Leonard started to understand that maybe he hadn't been exaggerating.  
  
The next time they surfaced for air, Leonard broke the kiss, trailing a line of soft kisses down the side of Jim's jaw until he buried his face against his husband's neck.  
  
"Jim."  
  
Jim withdrew so that he could look at Leonard with a slight frown on his face.  
  
"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"  
  
Leonard shook his head. "No. But it's not a good idea to get my heart-rate and blood pressure up right now."  
  
"Oh." Blue eyes widened almost comically. " _Oh_. I'm sorry."  
  
"Not your fault, Jim. We'll just have to give it a few days."  
  
He gently tugged at Jim's arm until his husband settled beside him, nuzzling into his shoulder with a content sigh. Jim was half-hard against his hip, and Leonard figured that just because he couldn't go on didn't mean Jim had to be stuck like this, too. He reached out and cupped Jim through his boxers.  
  
"I got one hand that works just fine, though."  
  
Jim made a small, needy sound at the feeling of Leonard's hand against him, but much to Leonard's surprise he reached for his hand and pulled it away.  
  
"Don't be an ass, Bones." He intertwined their fingers and brought their joined hands up to press a kiss against Leonard's knuckles. "I can wait. More fun that way, too."  
  
He pressed a kiss against the side of Leonard's neck and settled against him, their hands pressed against his chest. Leonard let himself relax against his husband, feeling his earlier fatigue catching up with him rapidly. But there was no reason to fight it now. Jim was here, a solid, comforting presence at his side, his pulse a steady thrum underneath Leonard's palm.  
  
Right now, that was all he needed.


	15. Coda - The Other Side of the Coin III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fifty-four people died aboard the Bragan Outpost, Admiral. I'm convinced that each and every one of them could still be alive if it weren't for you. And I'm going to make sure you're going to be held responsible for what you did."
> 
> The third and last interlude from Jim's perspective.

**_Stardate 2261.215 (August 2nd, 2261)_**  
  
  
It felt good to be back in command. Aboard Enterprise, Jim always felt a little out of place in civilian clothing, and it didn't feel right to know that someone else was on the Bridge, making decisions that should be his to make. It always felt as if part of him was missing when he didn't know what was going on with his ship and crew, a feeling that only let up once he resumed his duties.  
  
Only this time, it was different.  
  
Being back in command still felt great, but this time he for once wouldn't have minded to spend some more time with Bones, just the two of them. Bones was still off duty and on sick-leave, and would be for at least another couple of days. And no matter how much his husband grumbled and complained that he was fine – _damn it Jim, stop hovering_ – and no matter how much his condition had improved by now, Jim had nearly lost him. Just ten days ago, Bones had nearly died. It was hard to forget that, no matter how often Bones told him that he didn't need constant mothering.  
  
It was just…hard to go back on duty and pretend everything was normal, when all he really wanted to do was stay with his husband. But while it had been one thing for him to remain off duty while Bones was recovering in Medical, he couldn't just keep this up indefinitely. He was the Captain, and he had a duty towards his ship and crew as well, a duty he had pushed aside for ten days now. It was about time he took charge again, to let his crew know that he was back.  
  
Besides, he was going to see Bones for lunch later, after the end of his shift. Today was his first physical therapy session with M'Benga to regain full movement to his injured arm and shoulder, and Jim had to make sure his husband wasn't going to overdo it. After days of having his arm strapped to his chest, Jim could understand Bones' relief at being able to move it again. Hell, Jim knew that if he had been unable to do something as simple as put on his own pants, he'd be frustrated, as well. But still, as a doctor, Bones should know better than to overtax himself, and Jim was going to make damn sure Bones was going to respect his body's limits.   
  
But that was for later. For now, Jim was Captain Kirk again, and it felt good, despite the fact that his day had started with a load of paperwork. He had gone through all of Spock's reports, had held a video conference with Captain Stevens aboard the _Ontario_ to go over the last details before departure, and now there was only one thing left for him to do before he returned to the Bridge for the remainder of his shift. One thing he had been planning just as much as he had been dreading it ever since Bones had come home.  
  
Ironically, it was Lieutenant Matthews who was on security duty, and he immediately stood to attention as Jim came down the corridor.  
  
"Sir!"  
  
"At ease, Lieutenant." Jim nodded towards the door. "Were there any problems during the transfer?"  
  
Matthews shook his head. "No, sir. He protested vehemently, though."  
  
Jim nodded. He had expected much more trouble than that, that's why he had asked M'Benga to keep Marlow in Medical until he was back on duty. Jim had wanted that particular order to come directly from him, and nobody else.  
  
"Well, he's had an hour to stew about it. I guess we're about to find out what exactly he thinks about his new accommodations."  
  
Matthews seemed confused, an expression which made him look far more like the Cupcake Jim had gotten to know all those years ago than he had seen in a long time.  
  
"You don't want to go in alone?"  
  
Jim smiled mirthlessly. "Trust me, Lieutenant, I'd love nothing more than to have this conversation with the Admiral in private. But I'm not going to give him any potential ammunition. I want you there as a witness of everything that's said."  
  
Matthews nodded at that. Jim knew that the man was loyal enough that he would have followed that order even if he hadn't understood the reason behind it, but Jim had always thought that the better a crew understood the way their Captain thinks, the less he'd have to explain his reasons in the future. And he wanted Matthews to know what he expected of him – to stay in the background, but to pay attention even if he wasn't involved in what was going on. He wasn't going to give Marlow a chance to twist anything that was being said against him. Jim knew how to cover his bases.  
  
With another nod at Matthews, Jim turned towards the door and entered the brig.  
  
As soon as the door swished open, Marlow got up from the bunk he had been perched on and approached his cell door. Like all cells in the brig, the doors and walls of the cell were translucent so that the prisoner could be observed at all times, and so that nobody had to enter the cell in order to interrogate a prisoner face to face.  
  
As he heard the door shut behind them and saw Matthews take up position somewhere to his right, but in the background, Jim couldn't help but notice that Admiral Marlow was…nondescript, for a lack of better words. Like many Admirals Jim had gotten to know, he was past his prime in both years and physical fitness, signifying at least a couple of years spent behind a desk instead of serving on active duty. There was nothing remarkable about him, and if Jim hadn't watched the video feed in which Marlow had completely lost it, he wouldn't have thought that the man capable of causing so much damage. Through an impersonal order maybe, but not the way Jim had seen on that video recording of how Doctor Parker had gotten infected with the virus.  
  
But Jim had learned at an early age that appearances could be deceiving, and the moment Marlow's eyes fell onto him, his eyes narrowed in anger, and he stood as close as possible to his cell door.  
  
"I protest about this treatment, Captain Kirk! Your security officers took me from Medical and incarcerated me in the brig! If you don't release me right this instant, I promise you that a lot of people are going to lose their commissions over this."  
  
Jim took a step closer to the barrier separating him from the Admiral. Arms crossed behind his back, he met the Admiral's eyes head-on.  
  
"My officers were acting on my orders, Admiral."  
  
Marlow cocked his head to the side, face twisting into a snarl. "I see. Just as I expected, you and Doctor McCoy really are two peas in a pod. Just wait until Starfleet gets my report, _Captain_. I have many influential friends who will be very interested to see that you are both incapable of separating your private life from your duty."  
  
Jim wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction of reacting to the barb.  
  
"I came here to inform you that Enterprise is about to depart for Earth, with the shipment of latinum aboard. The _USS Ontario_ will remain in the Bragan System to help secure the outpost against any further attacks, and will remain in the system until repairs have been completed and the future proceedings on the outpost and the establishment of the trading post have been decided upon. That decision is pending until the exact circumstances of the attack on the Bragan Outpost have been cleared up; for that purpose we have been ordered back to Earth. We will be traveling for approximately five days, and you have the right to consult a lawyer before your hearing at Starfleet."  
  
Marlow grew progressively redder in the face as Jim spoke, but he didn't let that deter him. This was his ship, and now they were playing by his rules. Marlow would just have to listen, whether he liked it or not.  
  
"For the duration of our journey back to Earth, you are confined to the brig. Lieutenant Hanson and Commander Adams have been assigned quarters aboard the ship and will be confined to those for the duration of our journey. A hearing will determine the degree of their involvement in all this."  
  
"You have no right…" Marlow sputtered.  
  
"As Captain of this ship, it is my right to put anyone aboard the ship under arrest if they pose a potential threat to my crew or the ship itself. And considering that the last Starfleet station you set foot on was attacked by Klingons just a few hours later, I'm well within my rights to put you under arrest."  
  
"I need medical attention instead of being locked up!"  
  
"Doctor M'Benga assures me that you're in good physical condition, although you should be watching the cholesterol. A member of the medical staff is going to check in on you once a day, and you can require medical attention at all times if you deem it necessary."  
  
It was easier like this, Jim noticed. If he only kept detached and stuck to the official language of someone informing a prisoner of their rights, he didn't have to think about what the Admiral had done. He didn't have to remind himself of the fact that he was the reason why fifty-four people had died, why eight more were still being treated in Medical for the injuries they had sustained during the attack, and most of all he didn't have to think of the fact that Marlow was the reason why he had nearly lost the man he loved. He couldn't think about that, because if he did, he was going to do something stupid before Matthews even had a chance to react.  
  
Marlow's face turned grim, but Jim could literally see the gears starting to shift behind those narrowed brown eyes. If anything, an Admiral needed to be able to scheme and plan.  
  
"On what charges are you holding me?"  
  
"Starfleet Command will be the one to charge you, Admiral. Right now, you are being held because your actions were the direct cause of a Klingon attack to the Starfleet outpost in the Bragan System during which fifty-four people died. There is physical evidence against you…"  
  
"What physical evidence?" Marlow yelled. "I had every right to do what I did!"  
  
"You boarded a Starfleet outpost with a shipment of ten thousand bars of gold-pressed latinum, without informing the station's CO about it," Jim snapped right back, struggling hard to keep his anger out of his voice. "More than that, you exchanged a container with vital medical supplies with that shipment, again without informing the station's CO or the responsible medical officer's about it."  
  
Marlow waved Jim off with a snarl, and started pacing the narrow width of his cell.  
  
"I'm a Starfleet Admiral, Captain Kirk. If I deem it necessary for the successful completion of a mission, I don't have to inform anybody of a classified operation, much less a lower ranking officer."  
  
Jim's hands balled into fists at his side reflexively. He suddenly felt thankful for the barrier separating him from the Admiral, and from doing something very stupid, even if satisfying. When he spoke again, it was with a calmness he didn't feel, and there was an icy quality to his voice that he didn't know from himself.  
  
"You had no right to endanger everybody aboard the station when you _knew_ that information about your transport of latinum had leaked. Do you really need me to quote regulations at you, Admiral? Fact is you screwed up. You were responsible for that transport, and somewhere along the way you screwed up and the wrong people got to know that you were preparing the transport of a shitload of latinum with little to no protection. And what did you do? You transported the latinum onto a space station filled with Starfleet personnel, and didn't even see the need to inform their Commanding Officer of the possible threat!"  
  
"There was no proof! There was the distant possibility that maybe there had been a leak."  
  
Before he knew what he was doing, Jim slapped his open palm hard against the translucent panel between Marlow and him. The Admiral jumped at the unsuspected sound, much to Jim's satisfaction.  
  
"Fifty-four people died, so why don't you tell their families about the _distant possibility that there might have been a leak_? Let's see how well they take that crap! Fact is you had no right to keep this quiet. If you considered the threat valid enough to move the latinum from Braga IV to the outpost, it was your damn duty to tell Bartlett what was going on! The moment you only so much as _suspected_ that something was wrong, it was your duty to make sure the latinum was secure, not to hide it. There were two Federation ships within hailing distance. The _Ontario_ was a day away and could have easily sped up their arrival, and _Enterprise_ was never farther away than six hours. If you had done the right thing, Admiral, you would have called for reinforcements the moment you suspected something was wrong, and both ships would have been there well before the Klingons arrived. And instead what did you do? You hid the latinum in a space station filled with unsuspecting personnel who didn't know what hit them when the Klingons suddenly appeared."  
  
Marlow's jaw was working furiously, face drawn and reddening in anger.  
  
"I will not have you question my decisions, Kirk. Just because you flaunt through space and think it's enough to get by with a grin and complete disregard for any kind of authority doesn't mean everybody else has to play by the same rules. But I wouldn't expect you to understand that."  
  
"Trust me, I'm glad I don't. And I don't have to; Starfleet Command is going to be the one to judge your actions."  
  
For some reason, that statement seemed to actually calm Marlow, and a smug smile spread across his face.  
  
"Oh, I'm looking forward to that, Kirk. I've been part of Starfleet Admiralty for nearly a decade. I have contacts you can't even dream about, and there is no way they are going to commit me for the ridiculous charges you claim against me. Not me. But once they're through with _you_ , you'll be lucky if they let you remain in Starfleet."  
  
It was meant as a threat, but Jim didn't have it in him to let that get to him now. There was an icy calm spreading through him, despite the nagging voice in the back of his head that kept reminding Jim of what the Admiral's actions had done to Bones. That alone was reason enough for Jim to make absolutely sure that Marlow wasn't going to come out of this with that grin still plastered to his face. No way. No matter if he had to stoop to a level he normally wouldn't resort to.  
  
He took another small step closer to the cell, so that his face was only inches away from the barrier between Marlow and him. As the Admiral looked up, the smug smile still on his face, he answered it with a slow, icy smile of his own.  
  
"You know what, Admiral? I don't give a damn. You wanna know why? Let me tell you. Because saving Earth? Jumping through hoops and doing the impossible whenever the Admiralty asks for it? All this here?" He took a step back and gestured around with a sweep of his arms that was supposed to encompass the entire ship. "It buys favors, because that's how the screwed up system works. For years I've had people pat me on the back after my crew had to straighten out their screw-ups, telling me to just let them know if I ever needed anything. And you know what? I'm horrible at cashing in favors. A shore-leave for the crew here and there, and making sure that those who ask for a reassignment end up getting a good post, that's about the extent of the favors I've ever asked for in return."  
  
Jim allowed his smile to grow even wider, even colder, and for just one moment reveled in the thought of petty vindictiveness. Marlow for sure had earned it, and Jim made sure that the Admiral looked at him before he continued, so that he was going to hear every single word he said.  
  
"Fifty-four people died aboard the Bragan Outpost, Admiral. I'm convinced that each and every one of them could still be alive if it weren't for you. And I'm going to make sure you're going to be held responsible for what you did. And you know what? I don't care if I have to cash in every single favor the combined Admiralty of Starfleet owes me for it, but I'm going to make sure that you're going to lose your commission over this. If necessary, I'll put my command on the line and let Starfleet decide which one of us they'd rather keep around, but you're not going to get out of this. You're going to be held responsible for what you've done."  
  
Marlow paled slightly, but Jim didn't really feel any satisfaction at the sight. He didn't like resorting to these threats when he was in no way obliged to even talk to Marlow beyond informing him of the further proceedings. But he had allowed himself to get pulled into this argument, and now he had to see it through to the end.  
  
Besides, there was one more thing he needed to tell the Admiral. One more thing he needed to make absolutely clear. After the hell he had been through during the past ten days, this was the most important thing, and maybe – though he didn't want to admit it to himself – the reason why Jim had come here in the first place.  
  
He took a step towards the cell and dropped his voice, so low that Matthews couldn't hear him or at least could lie convincingly that he had not heard him should this ever come up again.  
  
"One more thing, Marlow. If you ever get anywhere near my husband again, you will regret it. Once we drop you off on Earth, I don't ever want to see you on the same ship as him again. If anybody only so much as mentions his name, you leave the room. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Marlow sneered at him with a huff. "Fuck you, Kirk."  
  
Jim just smiled calmly. He wasn't going to let Marlow get the better of him. Especially since he meant every single word he had said. He was going to make sure that Marlow was going to pay for what he had done. He had made his point, he didn't need to stay here for any longer.  
  
Not breaking his gaze, Jim reached into is pocket and withdrew a small PADD. He placed it into the drawer through which Marlow was going to receive his meals for the next couple of days. As he pushed the drawer back into the cell, Marlow reached for the PADD with a frown on his face.  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
"You have five long days ahead of you, and I don't want you to get bored. There's a list with fifty-four names on that PADD, along with the names of their next of kin. That's fifty-four letters to the families, explaining why their loved ones aren't going to come home again. Five days should be plenty of time, but you better get started straight away." He raised an eyebrow at Marlow. "I'm not going to keep you any further then. Admiral."  
  
He turned around and towards the door, not giving Marlow any chance to think of a reply. In passing, he saw the corner of Matthew' mouth quirk upward, and the Lieutenant stood to attention as Jim walked past him.  
  
"Sir!"  
  
"As you were, Lieutenant." He nodded at Matthews in passing, and couldn't help but feel a little relieved s the door to the brig closed behind him. As far as he was concerned, he didn't need any more dealings with Marlow for the remainder of their journey to Earth.  
  
Besides, he had better things to do with his time. Another hour of Bridge duty, then he could go home to Bones. And really, compared to that prospect, Admiral Marlow wasn't even worth thinking about.


	16. (12.)

_**Stardate 2261.225 (August 12th, 2261)**_   
  
  
"You can go right in, Sir," the assistant said with a smile that stemmed from year-long experience instead of any kind of heartfelt emotion. "He's expecting you."  
  
And damn if that didn't bode ill, Leonard thought. In his experience, Admirals didn't wait, they made other people wait instead. And while he had expected something like this to happen sooner or later, the call hadn't really left him much time to spare before he came here. Hell, there hadn't even been enough time to tell Jim that he was transporting down to Earth.  
  
Enterprise had returned to Earth five days ago, right on schedule, and Leonard felt as if the time since had been filled with nothing but meetings and debriefings. And it was far from over yet, not until the assembled Admiralty had gone over every little detail of what had happened on the outpost in the Bragan system.  
  
Normally, Leonard would have been the first to seize the downtime and get off the ship, to breathe non-replicated air and feel firm ground underneath his feet. But things were still quite a way from normal, and he had been away from Enterprise, from their quarters and most importantly from Jim for far too long. Right now, Leonard wasn't going to exchange the comfort of finally being _home_ again, not for anything. Even if that meant no fresh air, sleeping just a few feet away from the vacuum of space at night, and the need to use the transporter whenever he wanted to go somewhere.  
  
But still, during his appointments over the last few days, he had at least been given more than an hour or two of advanced warning. If there was one thing Leonard hated more than using the transporter, then it was using the transporter at a moment's notice, without enough time to convince himself that if Starfleet deemed these things safe, then maybe he wasn't going to end up scattered all over the damn universe.  
  
So maybe he was a bit jittery because of the whole transporting down to Earth business. Yeah. It definitely didn't have anything to do with the upcoming meeting.  
  
Despite the assistant's instructions to walk right through, Leonard stopped and gave a short knock on the old-fashioned office door, then waited for a second before he turned the knob and opened it.  
  
Admiral Pike was sitting behind his large desk, reviewing notes on a PADD as Leonard entered the room. All in all, there were three PADDs lying on the otherwise empty and spotless surface in front of him. Leonard knew that Pike was one of those people who focused on the things at hand and nothing else, so he was fairly sure that whatever was on those PADDs had something to do with the reason why Pike had called him here. Leonard closed the door behind himself and stood to attention.  
  
"You wanted to see me, Admiral?"  
  
Pike leaned back in his chair with a nod and gestured towards the chairs in front of his desk.  
  
"I did, thank you for coming, Doctor McCoy. Take a seat."  
  
Leonard did, and he couldn't help inspecting Pike a little closer as he sat down. He couldn't help it, it was part of who he was and it was far beyond Leonard's ability to change it. The Narada engagement lay years in the past now, and Pike had stopped using the wheelchair about a year after the surgery Leonard had performed, but still. Whenever they met, Leonard found himself searching for telltale signs of a relapse, or the dwindling of muscle tone that would tell him the Admiral had stopped the continuous physical therapy. He found none of those signs, just like he had expected not to find them. Pike was too aware of how close a brush with paralysis or even death it had been for him to ever neglect his health like that.  
  
What was a little disconcerting was that once Leonard met Pike's eyes, he found himself subjected to a similar examination.  
  
"How is the arm, Doctor?"  
  
Leonard shrugged. "It's getting there."  
  
He knew he still had ways to go medically speaking, but it was true. He was getting there. He could move his arm again, he wasn't in any pain anymore, and that meant he was free to finally touch Jim again, and hold him close at night as if he never wanted to let him go. Not that those were things he'd ever tell Pike in answer to his question.  
Also, the swelling in his fingers had gone down a few days ago so that Jim could finally put Leonard's wedding band back on his finger where it belonged. And while those weren't things to be discussed in an official meeting, to Leonard it were the benchmarks that marked his recovery.  
  
Pike eyed his arm and hand as if that could tell him something about Leonard's condition.  
  
"I gathered there was some nerve damage?"  
  
Leonard nodded. "Yes, but it seems Doctor M'Benga managed to fix most of that. The movement of the hand and fingers doesn't seem impaired beyond what's expected for the status of my recovery. I'm going to start on some surgery sims over the next couple of days to see where I stand, but I'm optimistic that fine motor skills aren't going to be the main problem. I still can't rotate my arm fully, so the damage to the shoulder as such was more severe than the nerve damage. But I'm back on light duty, and depending on how the sims go, I should be cleared to perform surgeries again before Enterprise departs."  
  
Pike nodded. "Good to know, Doctor."  
  
"But I guess inquiring about my health is not what you called me here for."  
  
"Cutting right to the chase, as usual," Pike said with a smile. "You're right, Doctor McCoy. The reason I called you here is because the Admiralty has been reviewing all reports about the Klingon attack on the Bragan Outpost for the past days."  
  
Leonard made a grunting sound in the back of his throat. "Guess you didn't like what you read there."  
  
Pike's expression didn't change, but something flashed in his eyes for a second.  
  
"Do not underestimate the potential impact of this investigation, Doctor. It's not about whether anybody likes what's in those reports or not. It's about the possible implications should Admiral Marlow be held responsible for what happened."  
  
Leonard felt a burning rage rise inside of him so quickly that he couldn't tell where it had come from.  
  
" _Should_ he be held responsible? If you read those reports you damn well know that what happened was his fault, and if the Admiralty can't admit that one of theirs seriously screwed up, then things are even more wrong than I thought!"  
  
"Careful, Lieutenant Commander," Pike said, his voice calm and even because he didn't need to rise it. His use of Leonard's title was enough to make him notice that he was treading on dangerous ground here. "This is by no means an informal meeting. You will get your chance to say exactly what you think during Admiral Marlow's hearing in a few days, and off the record that is something I find myself looking forward to. But I asked you for this meeting to talk about _your_ actions that day."  
  
In all honesty, Leonard had expected something like this, even if he had pushed the thought about it far away during their journey back to Earth. Starfleet worked like that, and there was no way to change it. Even after the Narada engagement, while all of Starfleet and most of Earth as a whole had still been in a mixture between shock and exhilaration about what had happened, there had been investigations. Leonard had gone through a hearing back then as well, despite the fact that his act of rule-breaking and smuggling Jim aboard had ultimately saved Earth. And while there had been no repercussions, Leonard had still received a slap on the wrist for what he had done.  
  
So he had expected for each of his actions during the Klingon attack to put examined closely, he just hadn't expected it to happen today. Even though everything he had to say on the matter was in his report, if he had known that this was what Pike had called him down here for, he'd have prepared himself. Leonard sat up a bit straighter in his chair.  
  
"Is this an official hearing, Sir?"  
  
Pike must have heard the note of defiance in his voice, and Leonard felt his anger rise at the slight smile that played around the Admiral's lips for a second.  
  
"Let's call it an official meeting and leave it at that, Doctor. As I said, I have read through all the reports concerning the events on the Bragan Outpost. Yours," he gestured towards the PADD in the middle, "Admiral Marlow's," his hand shifted towards the PADD on his right, "and the assembled reports of the other crewmembers who were present in Medical Bay during the attack." With those last words, he pointed towards the PADD to his left.  
  
Pike waited until Leonard looked up at him again before he continued.  
  
"That combination makes for an interesting read, let me tell you that. If you don't mind, I want to talk about Admiral Marlow's statement first. As far as your involvement in those events is concerned, it's by far the most interesting one."  
  
Leonard believed that without ever seeing the report himself. Nevertheless, he felt his temper rise again at the mere thought that Marlow was allowed to defend himself that way, and that other people had to waste their time reading it.  
  
Pike reached for the PADD to his right and switched it on. As the display lit up, he started scrolling through the data until he head reached whatever he was looking for, tapping the display with the stylus in his hand.  
  
"It says here that you displayed antagonistic and downright hostile behavior towards him right from the start, and that you were severely lacking in expressing the respect that should be appropriate towards a superior officer." Pike looked up, and for a moment Leonard could have sworn there was something like amusement in his eyes. "I won't even comment on that, because the most interesting part is still to come."  
  
Leonard didn't know what to expect as Pike continued reading. He didn't know Marlow's report, but he could imagine only too well that the man didn't have a single good thing to say about him.  
  
"This is where it gets interesting, and I quote: 'Lieutenant Commander McCoy displayed a degree of arrogance and selfishness in his actions the likes of which I have never encountered before in my long years of serving in Starfleet Admiralty. During the crisis he seized command of the Medical Bay in the face of higher ranking officers, and despite the fact that those higher ranking officers held more battle experience than himself. In a completely unwarranted display of heroics, he left Medical Bay unattended in the middle of a crisis, even though he was the last qualified doctor present at that point of time. Lieutenant Commander McCoy's behavior during the attack on the Bragan Outpost as a whole was highly unprofessional, vain, and completely lacking the conduct of a man holding his military and academic rank. Apparently the sole reason for his behavior was to bring a highly contagious pathogen into the Medical Bay, which subsequently was released and nearly killed everybody present in the room.'"  
  
Leonard had been trying to hold back, he really had, but now that he heard how Marlow was trying to pass on the blame for this huge clusterfuck on to him he had enough.  
  
"If it hadn't been for _him_ , that virus would have been safely stored away before the Klingons even dropped out of warp! And now he dares to…"  
  
"Lieutenant Commander!" Pike's voice was sharp, and it cut Leonard off mid-rant. "These reports have been on my desk for days now, you can trust that I have read _all_ of them, yours as well as Admiral Marlow's. But believe it or not, this here is actually my job, so just let me do it."  
  
Leonard bit his lip, and he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest, but he didn't say anything. Pike nodded at him in silent thanks.  
  
"I won't drag this out for any longer then, seeing that your patience appears to be running thin. According to this report, your actions that day were questionable in more than just one instance."  
  
Leonard understood what this was all about. Of course he did, it didn't take a genius to figure it out. Marlow knew he was going down and tried to shift the blame towards him. Or, if that didn't work, at the very least take Leonard down with him. He should have expected something like this to happen, really. It shouldn't surprise him as much as it did.  
  
"Now," Pike continued, "Admiral Marlow's report calls for drastic consequences for you. According to him, you're a threat and a liability to Starfleet, and your behavior during the attack willfully endangered the lives of everybody in Medical Bay. That's his report. And then there are the others." He pointed to the PADD to his left.  
  
"I can't possibly quote them all, but their descriptions of your behavior during the attack differs somewhat from the Admiral's. They differ quite significantly, in fact. According to those reports, your behavior was exemplary and exceptionally brave. In his statement, Commander Adams notes that your conduct was decisive, reassuring to the other crewmembers present, and well within your rights as acting Chief Medical Officer. He takes great care to notice that he might have misjudged you initially and proposes a commendation for bravery. In fact, these reports contain so many proposals for commendation that if I were to comply with them all, there'd be a sanctification looming in your near future, Doctor."  
  
Pike shut down the PADD and leaned back in his chair, looking Leonard straight in the eyes.  
  
"Now, you might be able to understand my position. On the one hand I have a big group of people singing your highest praises, and then there's a highly decorated Starfleet Admiral who wouldn't disagree with a public flogging if only Starfleet practiced those. And now it's my job to figure out what the truth is, and to act according to it. So, I guess you see my dilemma."  
  
Leonard very nearly laughed. "You can't seriously expect me to give you an answer to that question, Admiral. You read my report, so you know what I think."  
  
Pike raised an eyebrow at him – a very amateurish move, if Leonard was one to judge – and picked up the third PADD in front of him.  
  
"Of course, your report. The one that sounds as if a Klingon attack to a practically defenseless station was just another massively boring day at the office."  
  
There was a challenge in Pike's tone, and though Leonard could clearly hear it, he couldn't help but react to it.  
  
"Listen Admiral, you say you read my report, then you know my take on what happened. Admiral Marlow screwed up, and now that he knows he might be going down for it, he's trying to take someone else with him. And you know as well as I do that those other reports are the results of a perfectly normal reaction. Most of the people in that Medical Bay had never been involved in any kind of battle situation and were scared out of their wits. Of course they look for someone to put on a pedestal afterwards, but that doesn't mean I did anything other than my damn job."  
  
Pike slowly shook his head. "But you are aware that a highly decorated Starfleet Admiral is speaking against you."  
  
"An Admiral who is facing charges of his own, which should put that in perspective."  
  
Pike slowly shook his head. "So you stand by your report."  
  
Leonard didn't know if he was supposed to laugh or scream in frustration.  
  
"Of course I stand by my report, otherwise I wouldn't have submitted it in the first place. I did what I did, and I'm not making any excuses. Was everything I did that day right? I have no idea, Admiral. Yes, I did leave Medical Bay without a doctor in attendance during a time of crisis, which is a violation of Starfleet regulations. If you want to reprimand me for that, go ahead and do it. But Lieutenant Phrax was dying without the medication which by all rights should have been in Medical at that point of time, and I wasn't going to stand by and watch that happen. I'm a doctor, I've sworn an oath, and believe it or not, I take that seriously. So yes, I violated regulations, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat if the situation was the same. So whatever you called me here for, Admiral, just say it."  
  
Pike regarded Leonard for a few long seconds, then he nodded.  
  
"All right. After long deliberation, Starfleet Admiralty has come to a decision on your actions during the Klingon attack on Starfleet Outpost Braga IV."  
  
He pulled another PADD out of the drawer of his desk, switched it on and slid it across the desk's surface towards Leonard. "These are your new orders."  
  
Leonard reached for the PADD and picked it up, unwilling to admit to himself that his heart was beating faster in his chest as he did so. He knew he had done nothing wrong, at least not according to his own moral code. But that didn't have to mean anything. Those orders could be practically anything – it could be nothing worse than his old orders to report to Enterprise, maybe with a reprimand in his file that nobody would care about. But it were the other possibilities that had his stomach in a knot.  
  
Demotion and subsequent transfer, maybe. It would be harsh, and theoretically Starfleet couldn't just transfer him away from Jim because they were married, but that didn't have to mean anything. Whenever the shit hit the fan somewhere, a scapegoat was needed, and if for some reason the Admiralty wasn't willing to admit that this time one of their own carried the blame…well, Leonard was sure they would find a loophole if only they wanted. So those orders could be nothing serious, but they could as well be a blow to the gut.  
  
Nevertheless, his hands were steady as he turned the device upright and looked at the display. As long as they didn't try to separate him from Jim, he could take it. The main thing was that they'd remain together. He started reading, but stopped after the first few lines, went back and read it again. If possible, his heart started beating even faster in his chest and he looked up at Pike in consternation and, admittedly, a big amount of confusion.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
There was a sly grin playing around the corners of Pike's mouth, and for a moment the bastard didn't do a damn thing to hide it. But then his face grew serious, making it absolutely clear that Leonard was now dealing with Pike the Admiral, not Leonard's former patient or the man who had officiated his wedding with Jim.  
  
"You kept a clear head in a situation of extreme duress, Lieutenant Commander McCoy. All your medical orders were beyond reproach, and you responded immediately to the imminent threat. You took charge of the situation, secured your station and made sure that everybody under your responsibility remained safe. Furthermore, you went out of your way to get your patients the medical attention and medication they needed, and made sure that a highly infectious pathogen could not fall into enemy hands, even at the risk of own health and life. Starfleet Admiralty has come to the conclusion that it's to no small amount thanks to your actions that everybody who was in Medical at the time of the lockdown survived the attack."  
  
Leonard wanted to protest. It was in his nature to deflect words like that, especially when he was convinced he had simply done his job and couldn't understand why everyone else was making such a fuss about it. But somehow, he got the feeling that this was not one of the times to protest, or to cut Pike off.  
  
Pike looked at Leonard for a moment, as if he was daring him to interrupt, then he picked up a small box he must have taken out of his desk drawer while Leonard had been busy with the PADD. Not once breaking eye-contact, Pike straightened even further in his chair.  
  
"Lieutenant Commander McCoy, for actions above and beyond the call of duty I hereby promote you to the rank of Commander."  
  
He put the box down on the desk's surface in front of Leonard, who picked it up without thinking. He knew it held his commander's stripes, an antiquated military tradition Starfleet had never quite gotten over. He didn't even think about what was in that box; his mind was still too caught up on the fact that he had just been promoted when just a minute ago he had been worried that Marlow still had enough influential friends to seriously damage his career, or even worse, his marriage.  
  
And already he felt the protest rise in the back of his head. He had done nothing but his job, he didn't need a damn promotion for that. But it was as if Pike could sense the protest, and immediately cut it off.  
  
"The appropriate response, _Commander_ , is to say _'thank you'_ and leave it at that. Some people like to throw in a salute, but since you're not standing to attention anyway, that might seem a little over the top."  
  
Leonard swallowed down whatever he had been about to say. The words hadn't properly registered in his brain, anyway, and he thought it wasn't unlikely that Pike would have reconsidered the promotion had he said them out loud.  
  
"Thank you," he grumbled out, more because Pike apparently expected it than for any other reason. He didn't feel very Commander-y just yet.  
  
"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"  
  
A long-suffering sigh escaped Pike's lips. "I have yet to hear of a way to stop you."  
  
"The next time a doctor alerts Starfleet Command to a potential medical issue that needs intervention, and repeatedly at that, you might want to give the matter some consideration long before it starts to pose a threat to a profitable trading route. Maybe then next time there won't be any need to promote anybody for trying to hold the shit together once it blows up."  
  
Pike regarded Leonard for the longest moment, then he inclined his head.  
  
"Starfleet Command might not be infallible, but we're able to learn from our mistakes."  
  
Leonard was going to believe that when he saw it. He might hold Pike personally in high regards, but he also knew how the world of bureaucracy and limited funds worked. He pushed his chair back a little from the table.  
  
"If that was all, Sir?"  
  
"Anxious to get out of my office?"  
  
"Anxious to get home. I've been away for far too long already."  
  
And Leonard knew Pike understood that he didn't mean the hour and a half since he had beamed down to Earth. The Admiral inclined his head.  
  
"Understandably. Dismissed, Commander."  
  
Leonard stood, relieved to finally be on his feet again. He was nearly at the door when Pike called out to him again.  
  
"Doctor McCoy?"  
  
Leonard turned, his hand already on the doorknob. "Yes?"  
  
Something mischievous crossed Pike's face for a second.  
  
"I know you weren't angling for that promotion, but rest assured that I will expect you to act according to your new rank. After all, you represent Starfleet out there in the black. Just keep in mind that after Captain Kirk, you and Commander Spock now are _both_ the highest ranking officers aboard Enterprise."  
  
Leonard felt an answering smile tug at his own lips. He hadn't even considered the fact that Spock no longer outranked him, but hell if it didn't open up a whole new world of possibilities. Leonard released the doorknob and stood to attention, even going as far as whipping out a salute.  
  
"Admiral."  
  
"Commander." Pike leaned back, and from one moment to the next all traces of the Admiral had vanished from his posture, and Leonard found himself facing Jim's old mentor again, the man who had become something closer to a friend to both of them over the past years. One of these days, he'd have to ask Pike how he did that. "Send my regards to Jim."  
  
Leonard smiled. "I will. I'm sure he's going to invite us over for dinner while we're still in orbit."  
  
"He'd better. And now get out of my office."  
  
Leonard didn't need to be told twice. He was still holding the PADD with his promotion orders and the box with his symbolic stripes, but they didn't weigh him down like he had thought they might due to the way he had earned them. He was going to start thinking about the impact of all this later. Tomorrow, maybe. Definitely not today.  
  
Once he reached the public transportation point, he hailed Enterprise to be beamed back, and before he knew it, he found himself reassembled on the transportation pad on Enterprise. For once, he didn't even mind the abrupt beaming which had barely left him time to prepare for the possibility that his atoms were going to end up scattered all over space this time. Apparently, his fear was a lot easier to handle when he had other things on his mind.  
  
The ship was humming gently, almost imperceptibly beneath and all around him, the air had that particular feel that came from hundreds and hundreds of recycling cycles, and he felt a tension drain out of him that he hadn't even been aware of before. For just a moment, Leonard thought he understood a bit better how Jim felt about the ship, and why he needed this life so badly.  
  
Speaking of which. With a quick nod of greeting to the Lieutenant manning the transporter room, Leonard hurried out of the room and towards their quarters. Jim was off shift, and if Leonard knew his husband at all, he was going to use that time to catch up on the obscene amount of paperwork that had accumulated over the past weeks.  
  
Leonard smiled as the door slid open to reveal exactly what he had expected to see. Jim was sitting at the large desk their shared as a concession to the limited space in their quarters, a stack of PADDs in front of him, stylus in one hand and the other one buried in his hair as he leaned his head into it. His reading glasses had slid halfway down his nose, and before Leonard knew what he was doing, he was already across the room, and his hands were framing Jim's face as he kissed him soundly. Jim kissed back, immediately responsive against him, and he hummed appreciatively against Leonard's lips before they broke apart.  
  
"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?" Jim rasped out, his tongue tracing his lower lip as if chasing after Leonard's taste. Leonard smiled and pressed a quick kiss against his bottom lip.  
  
"Nothing. Just glad I'm home."  
  
Jim smiled one of those brilliant smiles that made his eyes light up an even more brilliant shade of blue and pulled Leonard closer.  
  
"Me, too," he said against Leonard's lips, then pulled him in for another kiss that Leonard only too gladly surrendered to. And if he ended up straddling Jim on his desk chair, Jim's glasses askew as Leonard mouthed a line of open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, he saw it as an added bonus.  
  
They had all the time in the world. He wasn't going anywhere for a long time.


	17. Epilogue

**_Stardate 2261.233 (August 20th, 2261)_**  
  
The thing was, Leonard wasn't good at hiding. Never had been. Even as a kid, he had been the worst hide-and-go-seek player in his entire neighborhood. He had simply never seen the sense in squeezing himself into tight and uncomfortable spaces just for the sake of preventing others to find him, and he had never seen the thrill or satisfaction in being the last to be found. Maybe part of the reason was that he was seriously lacking in creativity when it came to finding hiding spots in the first place, or maybe it was some deep-rooted psychological fear that he'd be forgotten and the others might stop looking for him. Leonard had no idea, he simply knew that he wasn't good at hiding, never had been and never wanted to be.  
  
And even as an adult, when hiding out no longer was something he needed to worry about – though with Jim, one never knew – it wasn't an issue. Leonard wasn't someone who hid away, he was someone who sent others away when he wanted to be alone. Hiding was something different from being alone, and Leonard had never needed the first in order to get the second.  
  
Besides, he wasn't hiding right now. It wasn't as if he was making a big secret of where he had gone to. So if anything, he was hiding in plain sight, and without any attempt to conceal his presence.  
  
He just…he had to get away. Damn what else everyone thought, Leonard needed to get away before his fragile grasp on his self-control slipped and he caused a scene. Or punched someone. He was no brawler, but right now it would feel good to punch someone, to feel the impact of his fist against something – or someone – over and over again until his own pain drowned out the fury that was coiling inside his belly, making him shake with a rage he had never experienced before.  
  
No, it was better if he got away for a while. He wasn't hiding, though. Just trying to distract himself from his growing rage, though the PADD he had been trying to reach distraction with was lying abandoned at his side and he was staring out the porthole into the bustle of shuttles and ships at Jupiter station. And wasn't it ironic that he was trying to calm himself down by staring into space, when normally that particular view still served to send his pulse skyrocketing a little?  
  
He just needed to get away for a while.  
  
It was further testament to the fact that he wasn't hiding that the door behind him slid open not even half an hour after he had all but stormed into the room. And really, there was no riddle as to who could have possibly followed him here. Leonard didn't even have to turn around to know that Jim was in the room behind him. Even if it weren't for the simple logic that he was in their quarters and that Jim was the only one who had access to the room aside from him. No, a room simply _felt_ different if Jim was there. Leonard always knew.  
  
What did surprise him was that after the door closed again, nothing happened. It took a very long moment until steps broke the silence in the room and came walking towards him, and even then they sounded slow and hesitant. Leonard didn't turn around at first, either. He kept staring out into the vast darkness of space as if it was holding the answers to all those questions he couldn't even put into words. He couldn't turn around, not until he had a tighter control over the boiling rage inside of him, not until he could say for sure that he wasn't going to unleash it against the one person who certainly hadn't earned to be on its receiving end.  
  
Leonard was tense, and only when after a few endlessly long moments a hand settled carefully, almost hesitantly between his shoulder blades and he felt himself relax almost automatically did he realize how much of that tension he had been projecting. If Jim hesitated to touch him, it must have been bad.  
  
The slight sagging of his shoulders, the almost imperceptible release of a breath he hadn't known he had been holding seemed to be all the encouragement Jim needed. His hand moved up to cover the back of Leonard's neck, and he stepped up beside him, close enough that the warmth of his body was a soothing presence beside him. It never ceased to amaze him that Jim had the ability to do just that, and calm him with nothing more than his mere presence.  
  
Jim didn't say anything, either, and most importantly he didn't ask if Leonard was okay. Quite probably, his husband already knew that Leonard was pretty far from okay at this moment. So they stood like that, with Jim's hand resting against the back of Leonard's neck, and for a few long moments watched the progress of a shuttle passing by in the distance until it vanished somewhere on Enterprise's starboard side. And only when Leonard no longer felt as if he was going to burst at the seams at the slightest change of position, or if he even opened his mouth, did he turn towards Jim.  
  
He wasn't surprised to find those incredible blue eyes locked onto his the moment he turned his head, and the sight made him breathe a little easier.  
  
"So that's it, huh?" His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. "That's all they're going to do?"  
  
Jim remained silent for a few seconds, his eyes never once leaving Leonard's. Leonard was grateful to have at least that to keep himself grounded when otherwise he felt adrift and quite lost.  
  
"It's all they could do, Bones."  
  
"All they could do?" The rage was back, uncoiling and threatening to lash out, and Leonard took an instinctive step back, dislodging Jim's hand from the back of his neck. "Don't feed me the fucking party-line, Jim. If that's all they could do, then Starfleet needs to reconsider quite a lot of their damn rules and regulations!"  
  
"They stripped him of all ranks and titles, Bones. They discharged him dishonorably."  
  
"Yeah, and for a guy like Marlow, that's like fucking early retirement!"  
  
Leonard couldn't understand how Jim could stay so damn calm right now. It felt nearly as if they hadn't attended the same hearing earlier, the hearing in which Starfleet Command had all but sent off Marlow with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Leonard had struggled hard to keep his composure and not cause a scene right there in the hearing chamber, but Jim was the one person he would have expected to understand how he felt about all this. That apparently he didn't felt like yet another blow to the gut. It felt a little too much like betrayal.  
  
Jim ran a hand over his face with an exhausted sigh, seemingly unsure on what to do next.  
  
"This isn't the end of it, and you know it Bones. This was the Command hearing, not his trial. What did you think was going to happen today? We both knew he wasn't going to end up in prison after that hearing."  
  
Leonard shook his head. He had no idea what he had expected. He knew what he _wanted_ , and short of seeing Marlow rot in the smallest cell imaginable he wasn't going to be satisfied, but he also knew that Jim was right. Rationally, he knew that Starfleet Command couldn't send him to prison without a proper trial. Stripping him of his titles, even agreeing on a dishonorable discharge, those were things that Command could decide on if they thought there was enough evidence to warrant the decision. Sending him to prison was going to require a bit more than that.  
  
But knowing something rationally and feeling that it was the right decision were two different things entirely.  
  
"Just answer me one thing, Jim. If it were you or me who had screwed up like Marlow did, if it had been anybody who was not a fucking Admiral who was responsible for all these deaths, do you think Starfleet Command would have let it go at a dishonorable discharge? We both know the answer to that is no. It if were anybody else, they'd be rotting away in a cell somewhere until the start of their trial. Marlow gets a fucking free pass until then, and why? Just because he's a damn Admiral? Tell me how that makes sense Jim, because I don't understand it."  
  
This time, Jim made a step towards him without any of his previous hesitation.  
  
"There will be a trial," he said, his voice firm and never once taking his eyes away from Leonard's. "And once he's put on trial, Marlow is going to go to prison for what he did. I talked to Pike earlier, before the hearing. There was a lot of discussion previous to this hearing, about Marlow and whether or not to wait out the verdict before Command even thought about considering a discharge. What happened today? That's politics, Bones. They're setting Marlow up to take the fall for what he did, and they're cutting all ties and responsibilities before he's even charged. I don't like it either, because it means that Marlow will be put on trial but not Starfleet Command for just letting their Admirals do whatever they damn please. But right now I'll take what I can get, as long as it means they won't try to hush up how badly Marlow screwed up."  
  
"And what makes you so sure that they won't? The trial is going to be when – a couple of months from now? What makes you so damn sure they won't try to hush it up before Marlow even sees the inside of a court chamber? Where's the guarantee they won't just settle him somewhere nice where he won't be in the spotlight, wait until public interest dies down and then forget it ever happened? It wouldn't be the first time that ever happened, and you damn well know it."  
  
It was unfair, Leonard knew. It was unfair to use Jim as a vent for all his pent up anger, frustration and his worries about how Starfleet Command could possibly try to protect Marlow even after everything he had done. He knew it was unfair, but he couldn't help it. Jim didn't seem to mind though, and despite his anger Leonard allowed himself a moment of gratitude for is husband. Jim took his harsh words in stride, and without any obvious sign that his conviction might be wavering.  
  
"Pike." He simply said, as if that was going to settle the matter. "Pike is what makes me sure that this isn't going to be buried as soon as Starfleet Command sees the chance to do so. He gave me his word that he wasn't going to allow that to happen, and I trust him. He won't let that happen, Bones. He won't, and there's fifty-five families out there who won't let that happen, either."  
  
Leonard swallowed against the sudden raw feeling in his throat. "The official death toll was fifty-four."  
  
Jim nodded. "Yeah, it was. And those families want Marlow to pay just as much as yours does. So if you can't trust Starfleet Command will make that happen, and if you don't trust Pike enough, either, then trust _me_ , okay? Trust me that I'm going to make damn sure Marlow isn't going to slip through some bureaucratic gaps."  
  
It shouldn't be this simple. This was so big, and the mistakes and responsibilities lay so high in the chain of command that by all rights he shouldn't be assured by a few words, and a simple promise.  
But this was Jim, and trusting him was as easy as breathing. Not only because Leonard loved Jim with an intensity that sometimes frightened him. The trust was something that had started much earlier, when he had still been a bitter divorcee and Jim had been nothing more than a genius kid with a big name to live up to. That trust was ingrained in him so deeply that questioning Jim was never even an option. If Jim said he was going to make sure Marlow wasn't going to get away, Leonard believed him.  
  
It was that easy. And it was the reassurance he hadn't even known he needed.  
  
"Okay," he rasped out. "I can do that."  
  
Those words coaxed a smile onto Jim's face, a genuine one that reached his eyes and held a lot more relief than Leonard would have expected.  
  
"Good."  
  
And as if those few simple words had settled all those things Leonard's mind hadn't been able to resolve for the past hours, suddenly it felt as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders. Not good yet, but definitely a bit easier.  
  
Without conscious thought, he was moving, and Jim was opening his arms, and this was real. This was all that ever mattered, the feeling of Jim's body against his, solid and warm and always the one thing that grounded him when he needed it. Leonard's own arms sneaked around Jim's waist, his hands automatically seeking out the hem of his gold shirt and working their way underneath. Not with intent, but solely for the purpose of feeling Jim's skin against his own.  
  
He wasn't going to say no to the additional physical reassurance.  
  
Jim held him tightly, almost possessively, the way Leonard noticed he had started to do since his return from the Bragan outpost, and Leonard let him, simply reveling in the proximity and the knowledge that yes, this was his, and his to keep.  
  
One of Jim's hands was buried in his hair, pressing his face securely into Jim's shoulder, and Leonard simply allowed himself to be held.  
  
"What can I do, Bones?" It was a whisper in his ear, followed by the warm press of lips against his temple. "Tell me what you need me to do."  
  
"Nothing," Leonard replied, clinging just a little bit more tightly to Jim though he wouldn't openly admit to it. "Just…just this. I just need this."  
  
He didn't need to say anything else because Jim understood, just like he always seemed to understand.  
  
"Okay."  
  
The gentle pressure of lips against the side of his head returned, then Jim pulled him over towards the nearby sofa and Leonard allowed himself to be led, to be manhandled as Jim settled him on the seat and sat down beside him pulling and tugging at them until Leonard's back was resting against his chest and he had his arms wrapped tightly around him. And only once they were settled, Leonard finally allowed himself to relax.  
  
Jim didn't say anything, and Leonard was grateful for it. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to think, he wanted nothing more than for this to be just Jim and him, and no thoughts about anything else. He needed this to be just them.  
  
Jim's hand unerringly found Leonard's and intertwined their fingers, and Leonard brought their joined hands up so that they rested against his lower chest. For a long time, he simply looked at the twin circles of silver resting beside one another in this position, Jim's on the one side, and his own finally back where it belonged, on his left ring finger. Leonard hadn't even been aware of how important having the ring was for him until he had woken up without it, and it had felt entirely too long until the residual swelling in his hand and fingers had gone down enough for Jim to put his wedding ring back where it belonged. It had been one step on the way of leaving this whole mess behind him.  
  
Jim's arms tightened around him and his breath ghosted warmly across Leonard's cheek as he exhaled deeply.  
  
"There's one piece of good news I haven't told you yet."  
  
"And what would that be?"  
  
He couldn't see Jim, but Leonard damn well knew his husband was smiling like the cat that got the proverbial canary.  
  
"I was told this morning that there's some trouble with the engines that's going to delay our departure for at least a week, if not more."  
  
There were few universal truths Leonard believed in, but if something was wrong with Enterprise and Jim wasn't working himself into a state about it, there was more to the story than what his husband let on.  
  
"What kind of trouble?"  
  
"Oh, just something's not working right. Problems with the anti-matter flow, power surges, you know. The usual, completely random problems."  
  
"I didn't know that there were any problems with the engines during the journey back to Earth."  
  
Jim shrugged slightly against Leonard's back. "There weren't."  
  
It only took Leonard a few seconds to figure out the most likely explanation for this…combination of weird news.  
  
"So Enterprise has engine problems, and you aren't the least bit worried about it. Neither is Scotty apparently, because experience tells me that as soon as something's wrong with that ship I have to share you with, he's constantly on the comm, giving you updates and reports. Something you want to tell me, Jim?"  
  
Jim chuckled into Leonard's ear. "Not really, no. You know how these things go. Some tiny, teensy part of the warp engine is malfunctioning, and suddenly nothing is working right. Even with the best engineers and equipment, sometimes it can take days to find the source of the problem."  
  
Leonard rolled his eyes. "Did you tell Scotty to make a tiny, teensy part of the engine malfunction to squeeze out some additional shore-leave for the crew?"  
  
"Bones, you wound me."  
  
"No, but I know you. If something was really wrong with the ship, you and Scotty would be down in Engineering, alternating between taking her apart piece by piece and crying onto each other's shoulder over the possibility that you could lose her. Since you don't seem worried about this mysterious engine failure, I'm assuming you know that nothing is seriously wrong with the ship."  
  
Jim smiled against Leonard's neck.  
  
"It might even take as long as two weeks," Jim continued as if he hadn't heard Leonard's words. "After all, if they already need to go over the entire warp engine to find the problem, they can as well give it a minor overhaul. And that's actually good news for you."  
  
Leonard frowned. "Why's that?"  
  
"Well, I've been told that Doctor Parker is going to be released from Starfleet Medical in a couple of days. Incidentally, I have it on good authority that she'll be granted the funds to continue her genetic research on Andoria if she wants to revive the project. Assuming that she does, she's going to need a ride. We could give her a lift."  
  
It were moments like this when Leonard was reminded of the fact that he was married to a man who could be a scheming bastard if only he wanted to. And though he was aware in the back of his mind that Starfleet wasn't granting Megan the funds out of the goodness of their hearts, he forced himself not to work himself up about it. Megan would know the offer for what it was, as well, and it was her choice whether to accept it or not.  
  
Leonard brought their joint hands up and pressed a gentle kiss against Jim's knuckles. He knew Jim would understand. He always did. It did feed his ego, too, but after everything he had done Leonard thought Jim had more than earned that. There was nothing left to say except for one thing.  
  
"Thank you, Jim."  
  
In response, Jim wordlessly tightened his arms around him, and Leonard leaned back into his husband's embrace with a relaxed sigh. He'd have never thought he was going to say this, but he was going to be glad once the little _engine problem_ was taken care of and they were back in space, far away from bureaucracy and politics.  
  
And who knew, if they'd really manage to give Megan a lift to Andoria, Jim and Megan would finally get that meeting they had both insisted on. That was definitely something to look forward to.  
  
Leonard wasn't worried that things would get boring. With Jim, they never did.  
  
  
  
 _ **The End**_


End file.
